Today’s edition of Best Gore Members Rock is brought to you by Best Gore member notimaginativeenough who has pictures and a great story to share:
My photos are all pretty average but they will hopefully prove to be a worthwhile addition to your already expansive inventory of self harm photos.
So, guys and gals, I was recently discharged from my local mental health hospital for, well, not a suicide attempt but an attempt not to. It has been 3 years since my first hospitalisation and diagnosis of social phobia, and everything has been pretty assy thereafter.
What led to my most recent admission was after many of my notorious freakouts then, staying inside my house for 2 weeks, taking prescribed seroquel to pass the hours, sheets covering the mirrors and just looking like a crack addled nightmare. After feeling sorry for myself for a satisfactorily long time, I decided, riddle me how, but I decided I had the courage to face the outside world and go meet up with my elder sister.
So, off I trot, and I began to cross the road on the downside of a prominent hill (which is a bitch to walk up). You haven’t got a clear visibility of oncoming traffic, as they just appear at the peak of the hill, and I have always acknowledged that I should probs walk down further to ensure I cross safely (but I don’t take my pedestrian safety seriously because when you feel like shit getting milled over by a tonne of moving mass isn’t such a threat).
All of a sudden, I saw this massive truck hurdling towards me. The only thing louder than its blaring horn was the instructions being screamed inside my head. It was almost deafening, I was telling myself; “I should jump out of the way, that’s going to hit me” and my minds retort was “to wait, let it hit you, fuck you, you’re going to stay here and you’re going to die. It’ll be quick and so definite. You aren’t going to have to wait any longer. Fuck you and stand right here” “But what about my sister? I love her enough and me dying in such a grisly manner will probably fuck her up”.
It honestly felt like in these few seconds I had reassessed everything in my life and, I decided to gtfo of the way. This may be sickeningly positive, but I did it for my sister. I don’t think she could bounce back from that. As it passed, the sheer speed of the passing truck spinned me to ground. I couldn’t give you an estimate of how long I just sat by the side of the road hysterically pulling my hair out.
After that, I returned back to the safety of my familiar 4 walls. As an outpatient, I had regular sessions with both psychiatrists and psychologists so I informed them the intensity of how assy I felt the next session. They wanted me to be hospitalised, I resisted for quite some time until I was escorted there. During my admission, it was business as usual; “you’re sad. here take this. you’re still sad? kk, take this now. happy yet?” until my desire to be discharged just miraculously cured me overnight, imagine that? I have being born agaaain!
During my time in hospital I heard many different patients talk about cutting and it caused me to reminisce upon my first time cutting, which I did as a punishment. But those lines blurred pretty quickly. Cutting was both a way to hurt and heal. Stitches were required, but compared to many posters here, they were a very, very, very mere flesh wound. Either way, I have recently rekindled my love for it.
I have since tried to limit my cuts to my upper thighs although the desire to stray elsewhere is overwhelming, ensuring nobody but a select few know irl is paramount. So yeah, I think we’re going to be seeing more of each other in the future. Thank you for taking the time to read this!
The photos were taken today, as a generic self harmers way of ‘release’.
Thank you for sharing your pictures and story with us, notimaginativeenough. They’re great:
