Reviews for Warning
siriuslyobsesed chapter 1 . 2/13/2011
The first time i cut myself i remember thinking about the song Tourniquet by Evanescence, "Pouring crimson regret..."

some people may look at cutting as regret and shame but cutting is a way of escape. i'm not saying that it's right but neither am i saying that its wrong. i guess cutting is just something we do to show that we are real and that we are not numb, that we can feel but sometimes i do wish that there was someone out there that had warned me against it, because it's true: once you start, you become adicted.
Pale White Shadow chapter 1 . 1/27/2011
I remember the first time I cut. She always did it. She told me it always helped her. She told me it freed her of all emotion, all the pain, leaving only clarity. With pain came clarity. The physical drove out the emotional. It left only clarity. They all drove me to it. I wanted answers. And so I took a razor. And, standing in the mirror, I sliced deep scars into my chest. In the form of a question mark in the mirror. I didn't realize it would be backwards on my body.

I realized even as I was doing it, it wouldn't help. It was only pain. It only intensified my tears. It only brought more confusion. No clarity. No comfort. Nothing. It was a punishment. And suddenly I knew why she always did it. She was punishing herself. She felt as if she had done wrong, and she needed to cause pain to herself. I made a vow, that night, as I stood with my chest running scarlet, a river of life upon my breast. I promised I would never, ever do that again.

And now every time I see her, I kiss her scars and tell her that I love her.
Wylloa chapter 1 . 1/26/2011
This hits me to the bone.

I wish I'd read this, seven years ago, when I stole my first of many blades. When I hid in bathroom stalls with paper clips and safety pins.

It's been since September of 2008, but it's still fresh in my mind. It will never go away. I cannot be in the same room with razor blades without my breath catching. I still have the scars, on my wrists, my shoulders, my calves, my thighs. It's exquisite, the pain, the rush, the addiction.

I can only hope that someone reads your Warning, and escapes before it's too late.