I sing as the blade parts my flesh.
Why am I doing this?
Been longing for this pain; don’t know what I gain but I love it.
Please stop.
So memorizing and erotic, stimulating and euphoric. The tingle is tantalizing – it makes me quiver and my spine shutter.
Last time.
Keeps me from shooting myself. I don’t know how to escape the nightmare that living has become.
God I need help.
I once knew a girl who wished to be free.
She dreamed of ending her life.
How she became this way no one could foresee.
Cuts in her skin from her fathers knife.
Everyone said live life to the fullest dear.
But her life she didn't love.
Hold on they say it'll be better next year.
Next year came around and her life she still wished to dispose of.
Day and night on her bed she would lay down.
Staring out her window at the waves in which she wanted to drown.
Many tears would fall from her eyes, but she did not make a sound.
She fought for survival with her mind as her own rival.
I broke my mask,
It fell, chipped and cracked,
So I threw it against the wall,
Just to break it a little more.
I watched in crumble under overwhelmed hands,
Slamming it into the floor breaking so easy,
While my blood flowed hot with anger,
Emotions bottled up broke free.
And I did something I hadn't done in years,
Trickles of red down my leg,
They'll scar,
But it I hardly feel it.
It didn't help,
Just took the edge off,
I still feel my emotional instability,
I need to calm down,
But all I want to do is hurt and cry and shout.
My mind cycles back and it hurts,
So much hurts,
But feels like nothing at all,
It's just too much.
No one knows but you,
And you,
And you,
But even you don't really know,
So what's the harm.
Thank you.
I do want to say something,
Give those I talk to a hint,
let them know I'm not okay,
but I don't want questions,
I wont want pity or worry.
The only one that would understand,
That would show theirs to compare,
Is unreachable.
These are going to scar,
But it's easy to explain away,
Or they'll fade to nothing,
Like the others...
I was a happy little girl.
I wore poofy dresses,
and spun in them happily.
I ran around and played
with both boys and girls.
I was a bit of a tomboy,
didn't mind getting dirty.
I ate apples instead of candy.
I climbed on anything
that I possibly could!
Alone with somethings that
no one though that I could!
I was such a happy little girl!
I smiled all the time,
I laughed at so many things,
I did just about anything!
I talked to strangers,
made friends in the blink of an eye!
It started so innocently...
Just 3 small,
small cuts,
placed carefully upon
my left wrist.
And I figured it would
just be that once.
But I was wrong.
That was almost 5 weeks ago,
and I have kept going.
Gone a couple days
without making a mark,
but then I'm back again,
somehow...
Somehow I've gotten a blade
back into my hand,
I have cuts in places that
I would never have thought
I would ever have a cut!
I cut here,
then I cut there.
I don't cut deep,
I stay on the surface,
too scared to go deeper,
and, frankly, I don't need to yet!
Oh what have i done?
Why did I do this?
Now... I don't know how to stop!
Picking a spot on my body
to make my cuts today.
There are so many
places I can choose from,
so many places that I've already cut on.
Maybe I'll cut on my hand,
maybe on my palm.
Maybe on my wrist,
maybe on my arm.
Maybe on my stomach,
maybe on my waistline.
Maybe on my thigh,
maybe on my legs.
Maybe on my ankle,
maybe on the insides of my thighs....
Maybe where my underwear can cover,
hell, It's not like I haven't cut there before...
There are so many places
on my body
that I can take a blade to
and draw my art.
One cut here,
another cut there...
maybe a big one here,
and a small one there.
Cut, cut, cut, cut
my head screams to me,
my hands beg of me,
my blade calls to me.
I'm picking a place on
my body,
a spot to make a new cut,
a new piece of art...
Where will I pick today?
I know what I'm doing
is seen as very wrong,
but there's something
about it that draws me in....
The feeling of pain
when i touch the blade
against my skin,
the sight of the blood
popping up to the surface
as i drag the blade,
the sensation of both
panic and calm,
mixing together
in my mind.
I know I shouldn't
do this,
but I actually like it
The way my skin heals
and then leaves a scar behind,
to remind me:
I'm still here,
I'm still alive,
I still bleed,
I still heal.
I'm not gone,
I'm not dead,
I'm not bloodless,
I'm not unfixable....
This cutting
makes me feel again...
It happens when
you're all alone....
No one answering your calls
No one answering your texts
No one there for you...
That's when you look over,
and you see your blade.
That faithful friend...
That friend who's always there
when no one else is around.
That friend that
can bring you comfort,
bring you freedom,
make you....
alive.
You don't dare
tell others that
this is how you feel...
That, even though it's wrong,
you actually....
enjoy the blade.
You keep that inside,
it's your little secret.
You slowly reach out,
knowing you shouldn't
but you're done resisting,
and ready for that comfort.
So that's when you
go ahead,
you hold it in your hand,
feeling the familiarity of it.
You place it to your skin,
you press it down,
you pull on it,
you drag it across your skin.
You give in and let it win.
You cut.....
You give in.