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I cut a little though.
I love the scars they leave on me. I love pulling my sleeve up a few inches when no one’s around so I can admire the red and brown stories on my arm. I love the blood and the sting and the throbbing and the amazement at what I just did to myself. I can hurt people when I need to. I’m not helpless. I can fight myself AND any other man who tries to put his hands on me. It’s a good feeling.
It’s something I like to remember. Forever.