*Lestat offers a comforting tight autie-compatible squeeze-crush to I2's favourite Renface*
Ren, please, never forget this, and I hope I'm alright saying so with you. But no matter what, scars or otherwise, you are, and always will be beautiful both within and without in equal measure. That which makes you YOU and not somebody else, is beautiful, which counts for a lot. Don't you forget it, Rensters don't DO ugly, they can't.
For a Renster to be ugly, that would be like an enraged bull trying to be delicate in a china shop, or a blind man with no arms or legs to be a master watch and miniaturized clock-maker.
A Renster being ugly in any way whatsoever would be like me having always loathed chemistry.
the very concept of ugliness is a thing which should be as alien to your psyche as the idea of a me who hated science is to me, because it just does not apply. And for that matter so should sorrow. Sorrow should be a thing which ever has stayed so far distant from your being, directly or indirectly that you have only ever come upon it in books of fiction. And then, seldom.
And know this-Ren, to me, I know, without having to see them, that any scars, they do not detract from your looks (yes, I do think you are a very pretty lady ren, both without and within, and I also think that a strong, happy ren is a good ren), if I did see them, you'd be not the tiniest bit less pretty. All you'd be is touched all the more by my compassion.
I did once cut to self harm, although it was a single act. And it was a failed attempt at ending myself.
I wished genuinely to die at the time. But failed, despite using a throwing knife, a very sharp little double-edged dagger which is balanced to throw accurately, to slit a vein lengthways in my arm, tried to bleed out but could not, since I could not inflict an arterial wound given the injury to one arm, meaning I could not hold a blade and use it, even to throw at my neck (and wrong hand for an accurate throw, especially a back-flick throw (I used to be quite proficient in knife-throwing, although out of practice now. I think I should get another set or two or three, of different weights and take it up again, throwing at targets-in the years ago I threw a blade, I used to be able, reliably enough to be able to hit a target in the head if they were taking a hostage, with their head to one side of the hostage. It was quite fun for target-throwing, and practicing by seeing how many throwing knives, held in one hand, that I could slam into a target like a tree, and how close a set of impacts I could achieve, that is, how many I could rapidly throw, using overhand, side-hand and underhand flicks, in sequence and have them in how tight a grouping)
At that particular time though I was terribly, terribly depressed. Though, as I did not die, and lived, my stalker brought forth a promise from me, an oath sworn, that I would never take my own life (although I know, and I know she knows, as she would do the same herself without hesitating, were we either ever to become afflicted by a neurodegenerative and incurable disease which would otherwise wipe out our personalities, like Alzheimer's or other dementia. Indeed in that case, if I could not and she were present, I fully believe she would herself put me to my end, cleanly and painlessly and quickly as possible. And I would do the same for her if she wished it, or if so far gone she couldn't do so herself. Because I already know for a fact she would herself do it if she could)
But, my stalker, she took that promise, and I will stick to it, no matter how far down I may ever, in the future, become, should depression strike, because I gave my word to her, my precious, precious lady *would if it w ere private between myself and her, then speak my special pet name for her, the one I reserve only for her own ears*. And because of her value to me, and her own intrinsic value as a strong-souled, iron-willed, dynamic, beautiful autie lady, somebody every autie would, if they knew her would aspire towards making themselves more like
Because I gave her my word, that is something that is alike unto hardened steel, plated with iridium. Not so much as a scratch will it take, nor ever shall my will be bent or be broken in that respect. I gave my word to a beloved, dear one to me, and as such, such does she mean to me, that I physically cannot, and could not, ever bring myself to break it, save only in such dire circumstances as I know she would permit it, or even do it herself for me, the kind of thing either would save the other from. I, I know, would even die FOR her if it would bring her life, or quality of life if in the latter case she would allow me permission)
So as one could see, no matter if ever I were to become in even the deepest, most painful depression, or other horror, I will endure. I CAN endure, because I have my given word to a deeply, deeply valued and cared for lady, if human perfection is possible at all, it is extremely rare. But in my stalker, it is as close as it can be to existing. And to break my given word at all is not something I do lightly, if I swear an oath, and mean it, to somebody deserving of it, but to my stalker, Heretic, that principle is amplified on an asymptotic upwards curve towards infinity, exponentially stronger for each and every single instance I so much as picture her face.
I still bear the scar from the attempt down one arm, and if I ever were to need to remind myself, I'd only have to look at it, to bring that word given to my stalker into full force view.
In as much as I am still capable of loving...I love her, and dearly. She is the only one of two people who I would, could, call a soulmate. The other being the younger of my two ex fiancees, There is one other, kassiane S, who could be a soul-mate, but she knows not that I love her (and I do. Genuinely. She is the only person I have loved since in that degree. And I would, if I were close enough geographically and she accepting, gladly give over all who I am to her, mind, body, heart and what is left of my soul. I'd sell my soul to the RettDevil...lol. No...not sell it, give it away, in a grab one, get the rest of me free offer
Teehee, kassi, well she IS rather special. That gal has class in torrents.
As far as self harm and my word to my stalker goes, I'd exclude cosmetic alterations done for cosmetic sake, such as tattooing, branding/scarification IF I wanted the latter two and I do not. Unless either of those three people were to claim me, permanently, as my owner, irrevocably permanently, then I would consider having them do it if they wished.
Otherwise fucking christ no.
Tats sure, I actually would like a few more done. I'd kinda like a mouse spider (Missulena) done somewhere, in a raised, forelegs-up fangs-bared striking posture, as well as a black widow of one or other of the Latrodectus genus inked just below my neckline, over my collarbone on one side. Wouldn't mind having the old pair of lip rings on either side I used to have I liked to link them with more rings, and to pull and rotate the captive-ball rings in my lips around and around with my teeth, or click them between my teeth. Lost a fair few in the past though, and the captive balls if they ever, ever come out are the hardest thing I've ever had to reset, only ever managed it a few times. Lol the way I lost them, was the ball coming out whilst I was in a K-hole, or rather, a methoxetamine, PCP analog, or PCE analog-hole, while down the rabbithole the damned things kept coming out and ending up swallowed and ultimately, down the bog hole
Lost maybe 10 pairs of rings that way
And more piercings, yeah, that I'd do, willingly, I'd like more than my current labrette piercing done, especially to get the lefthand pair of rings repierced and a new pair of rings set. I brought my own anaesthetic, both topical and injectable (although without epi) benzocaine, or rather a benzocaine analog prepared in the lab for the purpose, because for just a dab of topical only local anaesthesia they tried to charge me £10,
