Dermatillomania

I want to be perfect. I just want to be perfect. But so much is getting in my way... I hate my ugly body. This horrible skin with all of its imperfections. It's driving me mad.
I look in the mirror and see a blemish on my cheek. It's not quite ready to go yet, but I feel it! I feel it! It's there, and I don't want it to be. I want it gone.
I push at it, trying to get the defect out, but it won't surface. All I managed to accomplish was two deep nail marks in my face. I get frustrated and I scratch at it, trying to get the skin off to open the pore. It bleeds a little bit. I try squeezing again, but nothing. The nail marks break the skin slightly.
I grab a sewing needle. They say not to do this, but I'm desperate. I try to gently tear open the blemish. I really don't want to scar my face, so I have to be careful.
But even after that, it won't come out! I scratch vigorously at it until there's a large, bleeding scrape on my cheek. I don't pay much attention to that, for I see the pocket from the bacteria's infection. I try to get it out, but it won't budge! WHY WON'T IT JUST GET OUT OF MY FACE?!
I take my tweezers and try to pull it out, digging even further into the skin. I can't grab it. Eventually the wound is bleeding so much, I give up for now. I press a tissue to stop the bleeding and leave the bathroom.
The next morning, I return to the mirror. There's a big, dark scab where the blemish was, still hiding the infection. I start obsessively searching my face for other imperfections. I found a couple small ones that people probably wouldn't have noticed, but I noticed them. I attack them like I did the one from yesterday. More scrapes, more torn skin, more blood. But there's still the scab from yesterday...
I tear it open to try to clear the infection again. I dig with my nails, then with my tweezers, and then I take the needle and stick it in the pore to try and dig out the pocket. It's bleeding so much, so I try to dab at it with a tissue so I could see what I was doing. The pain never bothers me; I'm too concerned with the battle against my skin.
Giving up again, I have little bits of tissue stuck to each wound to stop the bleeding. I watch television. I idly scratch my arm and feel a bump. Another imperfection. I don't even know what it is. Probably not a blemish. I scratch at it anyway, and it bleeds. I start obsessively searching my body.
I scratch at my back at more blemishes and previous scabs. I inspect my legs and arms, and even my abdomen. I find a spot behind my knee and scratch it off, only to find out it was just a birthmark. I began tearing at more freckles, reopening old scabs, even ones that were nearly healed. I stop after a long while...
To the mirror again the very next day. Reopen the wounds, tear at spots I missed, even on my scalp where not even I could see until I searched thoroughly for them. There's a milia on my eyelid. Those usually have to be removed by a dermatologist. However, I take my needle and dig it off, severely damaging my eyelid.
My neck, shoulder, chest, arms, legs, pelvis, back... covered in scabs... just more imperfections to get rid of... I constantly rip them open to get rid of them... I'm covered in scars and scabs. I try to heal scars with bio oil, but they just don't heal fast enough.
I find myself tearing at my face at night when I'm trying to fall asleep, but doing this keeps me awake. I pick, scrape, dig, peel...
The next day my friend came over. She was horrified at what she saw. I had torn my face off. I kept digging at my arms, back, and anywhere else, taking huge chunks of flesh off my body. More... imperfections... they had to go! THEY HAD TO GO!
My friend tied my hands behind my back and drove me to a hospital as I bled. I struggled, trying to free myself so I could dig at my wounds, but it was no use.
Urgent Care did what they could with the gashes, which they still had to keep me from scratching. After, however, they suggested sending me to an institution. I was put in a straight jacket for the soul purpose of keeping my hands secure.
I'm so ashamed... I'm so horribly scarred... I just wanted to be pretty... just like everyone else...
Category:Mental Illness