"Body modifications for raising your feeling of self-worth"
At A Glance Author Misiek Contact [email protected] When N/A Location brooklyn In a group of 30 school kids playing together in a group there is always one kid sitting on the side, not being able to mangle together with the rest. The kid just never quiet fits in. He is always cast off to the side. Never in on the inside jokes. Never in on the secrets. Never part of the in crowd.
A little chubby, lunchroom "herb". He would close his eyes, lay his head down on his patched up army book bag and pretend to be asleep. He would escape from reality, from kids that would make fun of him, from people that would pick on him, from people that disliked him, from the painful reality of everyday life. He didn't engage in casual conversations with people, and would never quiet know how to act in any given situation, even the most simplest of situations; saying hi to somebody that he knew, and just asking them what's up, what they been up to. He never had a good comeback to the shit that people would say to him.
He was different. He felt like he was a fucking alien. He knew that he was different. He didn't look much different then other people. But he felt different. He didn't behave normal, average like other people. He didn't want to be different. He wanted to be the same, he wanted to be normal. He hated himself, he hated the world, he hated everything, he couldn't, didn't know how to deal with the most simple of life's obstacles.
He didn't have many friends, and the ones he did he didn't keep. He would lose them, change them, forget about them, get annoyed with them, and the shit they did. He would disrespect them. Judged them.
He hurt the people that cared the most about him, and that he cared the most about. He would angry them, curse them out, hit them, scream at them, make them upset, make them cry, ruin their lives.
He was a miserable person, he still is a miserable person.
He didn't have any value of himself. He felt worthless, different, ugly, stupid, asocial.
He wanted to feel better.
He is I.
And I started my journey of body modifications. I wanted to feel better. I wanted to change for the better. I wanted to be good, valuable and be able to feel normal.
I wanted to improve myself so I went and got a tattoo. I went off and got my first tattoo. I wanted it to be something that represented my change, something that made me feel powerful. That would make me feel feared. I got a dragon, a symbol of me ripping through my shell and showing the world what I'm made off and starting to confront the world on my terms. A dragon ripping through my skin. The powerful me coming out. I felt powerful. I felt better. When I got the tattoo I felt normal. If felt that I'm in control of my life. I felt that I can achieve anything that I set my mind to.
I wanted more, I loved the way the tattoo made me feel. It made me feel alive. I felt better about myself. The tattoo made me feel better. The tattoo gave me hope, gave me energy, gave me power, gave me a better insight into me, it gave me a better understanding of who I am and helped me grow. I started to conquer my body, and with it my mind, something that I was never able to do before.
I then went and got my tongue piercing. A tongue piercing was something that I never thought would be something that I would ever even consider doing. And there I was with the needle through my tongue, conquering fear, conquering pain, conquering what people thought, conquering the close mindedness of people around me. I messed up on the healing process by drinking, and making out, and smoking, so I retired the stud after a month.
Seven months later, there I am with a needle through my tongue again. I felt powerful again. Unfortunately I had to retire it again. But I'm going to get it pierced again in June.
I got my nipples pierces. First the right one, then the left one two weeks later. Then I stretched them using a homemade taper, a bar with Teflon tape rapped around it. I put 12G in both. I felt more sexual. I felt alive. I felt that I was in control of my body. And I felt that I was doing what I want. Not listening to what other people thought of me doing it, if they thought it was gay, stupid, retarded, sick, cool, or the best fucking thing in the world. I did it because I, and only I, wanted to. Because it was going to make me feel better about myself.
The more mods I get, the more right, more acceptable, my life becomes to me. The more mods I get the more I feel like I'm in control of my life. The more I feel like I'm taking my life in the right direction. The more independent I feel. The more reasons I have to do what I want, the more free I feel. I have freedom. The freedom to live my life, without the fear of what other people think. Body modification is therapy!!!