Cuts

Trigger warning for cutting! beware! 

I slam the door to my room.

And of course they don’t really notice, and that voice in my head tells me they don’t care.

That I might as well just do it,

My mind goes back to what happened moments ago,

The internal fight begins.

I can feel my heart picking up a faster pace, despite how fast it was already going.

And the anger and frustration is running through my veins.

And desperation and angst start kicking in and I feel my eyes water.

I curl up at my pillows, trying to talk myself out of it.

It rarely seems to work, after a few moments, I can’t deal with all the emotions.

That are eating me alive.

And despite every logical cell in me telling my not to, telling me why I shouldn’t

That it will scar, and I’ll feel horrible and guilty soon.

I ignore it, I can’t bring myself to care...not now.

So I grab the source of my relief, my own personal coping method,

I yank my pants leg up,

I count to three and hold my breath,

And I make the first cut,

Which turn into two,

Then three,

And so on and so on.

Until I snap I out of it, and cover it with a tissue.

I’ll sigh and lean back, and wait for the bleeding to stop.

And for a few moments, there’s tranquility.

I’ll take a deep breath and relax, before harsh reality catches up to me.

But I don’t feel as bad as before.

I promise myself I’ll stop,

Someday.