I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean I know, of course. I know when I’m holding the blade and I know when it cuts through my skin but I don’t really. No, I don’t know. I don’t know until it hurts when I shower, I don’t know until I can’t wear shorts because they don’t know I still cut, I don’t know until my best friend sees a fresh one through the holes in my jeans. I really don’t know, not when I do it and not right after. I don’t know not until it directly affects my life.