God, The Devil...and Bob

Okay, so there really is no "bob" in this scenario. I just wanted the title to sound like that short-lived cartoon from back in the day (which was a Wednesday. Ask Dane Cook).

So I have been struggling with an urge to cut myself, but my sense of reason (and a little bit of fear) has allowed me to win the struggle.
Tonight, as I was watching South Park on my computer something totally random just hit me. I got up and took a needle from my mum's all-purpose sewing kit and started looking for some sort of topical numbing agent. I ended up only finding Neosporen plus pain relief and Cortizone10 (used for itch relief). I put both creams on and started to poke away with the needle. Fortunately I am too much of a wimp to repeatedly stab myself. The wrist has too many tendons for this method to work without massive pain.
This was God's grace. His grace that my mum has insisted on keeping dull knives in our kitchen (and that she took the one sharp knife with her to Seattle). It was his grace that I could not find the adequate materials for self-mutilation. Thank you God!
But then the devil put in his two cents. The other day when I was looking for the insurance card and current registration for our van, I noticed a razor blade in the change tray. Pretty odd, right? The devil reminded me of this and without even thinking I went out and retrieved it. My sense of reason, it seems, took a smoke break. I sterilized the blade with Purell (Go OCD!) and started cutting.

So there it is, I am a cutter.



How the hell did I ever get to this point?



I am a cutter.