“The clean cuts looked beautiful and weird. Endorphins sped through me. I spun around, growing dizzy, frantic, and silly … ‘I thought, I’ve found my new pharmaceutical deep inside.' I giggled fearlessly, manically at this and looked down at myself; hands, arms, chest, and belly covered in crimson … ‘I can do this,’ I whispered. ‘I can keep this secret to myself.’" - David Fitzpatrick, "Sharp: A Memoir"
We're all obsessed with something. I'm a little obsessed with the Green Bay Packers.
David Fitzpatrick's obsession was different. He was obsessed with cutting himself, with self-injury. His twenties and thirties were a series of hospitalizations punctuated by trips to the outside world, which were in turn punctuated with self-lacerations that sent him repeatedly to emergency rooms. Most of this happened in a corridor that runs from Hartford, where I sit, to New Haven and Guilford. Reading his book, I found myself wondering if I had brushed past him in Bushnell Park and, in turn, how many other souls, bleeding on the inside and out , we all brush past, unknowing, during the years of our lives. Today, David came to our studio and, joined by others, told the story of being what we call a cutter. Leave your comments below, e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org or Tweet us @wnprcolin. This episode originally aired Aug. 17, 2012.