steak knives

I was looking today at the sleeves of my favorite shirt. The shirt is a blue, long sleeved long john shirt. I noticed again that over the wrists on both arms of the shirt there were cuts over the delicate flesh of my underarms. I had been noticing it the last few times that i had worn this shirt and I couldn't come up with an explination for these lacerations. It just struck me today how long i had owned this shirt. I used to wear this shirt when i was a sophmore in highschool. I remember now how i would wear this shirt under a t-shirt that something delightfully cliché high school rebellion on the front of it like an interlacing of bones that makes a line or maybe there would have been some flames to show just how badass i was. I remembered the way that I would wear the undershirt. I would take those shirts to my kitchens and expose wrist. then i would take out a steak knife (never scissors). A steak knife shouting with teeth and i would run this blade over the wrist untill i had a slit. I would use this as a thumbhole so that my shirt sleeve formed a sort of half glove for my hands. I don't call this an undershirt anymore. I just wear it without any type of dramatic cover. but my shirt, even though I forgot how they got there, still carries it's scars from when it wasn't enough to wear as my only shirt