Is it normal to lust for blood and adore scars?

When I was eight years old I was involved in a fist fight with a friend of mine, at the time. Robert, he was ten. He had hit a female friend of mine, Jennifer, repeatedly, before I could step in. It was a simple, childish fight. He hit me, broke my nose and I hit him and broke my fist on his teeth. His sister intervened and took him back home while I went to check on Jennifer, who had informed me of my bleeding fist. I learned two things that day. One, I have a ridiculously high tolerance for pain. Two, I love the taste of blood more than anything I had consumed then, and to date. I had put my knuckles in my mouth to slow the bleeding and from that moment on I had a feeling inside, almost an indomitable need, but simply an irrational craving for blood. Now, this was long before Twilight or True Blood or any of that other vampiric malarkey became known or main-stream, so please do not confuse it for that. Anywho, it started small, as I was eight. I'd use scizzors, broken glass, et cetera to cut myself so I could have some blood. I didn't need much, at the time, so that little would suffice. In middle school I met this boy, Jonathan, who was some sort of punk or goth or whatever you wish to call them and I noticed the scars on his wrists and, while secretly adoring them, I was interested in learning how he was able to get them so deep and wide because, naturally, that meant more blood. That's when I started using razor blades. They have worked wonderfully over the past thirteen years. I've been working on a theory and a promise that had kept me from cutting myself over the past two years, but the past weeks, month, has been unbearable. So I've begun cutting again and reawakened that..lust, I would call it, for the taste of blood. I love the warm, milky consistency. Mostly, though, it's the variety of flavours. Type is a natural contributing factor to flavour, but the location from which you retrieve it on the body plays a role, as well. I also love scars and the pain, or more the lack of. Just thinking about blood like this makes me crave it and tasting, even just the scent of it makes me want more. I cut and I drink until the wound stops bleeding, then all I want to do is cut and continue. It is so hard to stop, but cutting too much or too often draws unwanted attention fueled by misconceptions of emotional turmoil and such. The thing is, I absolutely adore the sight and taste of blood, mainly my own, but I'll settle for another's and I think scars are quite possibly one of the most beautiful forms of art in existance. So, is it normal to be so in love with the taste of blood and to find such beauty in the aftermath of gross mutilation?