My forever goodbye

It hurts. It hurts so much. I should stop. I can't risk someone walking in. That thought terrifies me. However, if I get caught and sent away, it's better than dealing with these feelings in some other way. I tried that before. I cried even more then. I rather this, it's less... emotionally draining. It feels like fire, the scars are scattered, thighs, arms, ankles, hips, collarbone, the soles of my feet. All places that work quite well. Least noticeable to others are my soles. It releases something—a feeling in me whenever I go for it, a type of satisfaction; a sort of dopamine even. The blade is so pretty. Just a slim X-Acto knife made for art, oh but it's so pretty. The silver gleam dancing in the faint light with a slight red edge as it cuts through me over, and over.

Why can't I be normal? Why am I bitching and moaning about this, when other people are in so much worse situations. Some people get raped daily and I'm whining about this? This? Stop being so heartless. Think about how others feel you damn waste of space.

I have to get up. I have school. It's safer than home, but still, school is a strain. Don't get me wrong it's a lot better than home, but I guess the easiest way to put it is, kids are mean.

Just get up, ignore the blood, just ignore it. It'll all be fine. All I have to do is keep moving. If I don't get up now, I never will. The nurse's office, yeah that'll work.

"H-elp" it's barely a whisper, a scratchiness to my voice I didn't know was there, a crack that squeaked out of the baritone that used to be so silky...used to be so silky sweet, like candy until it stopped being used, until the fear to use it came. She springs into motion.

"Oh dear, come here," she reaches to guide me to the makeshift bed. No. No. No. Don't touch me, not you, not anyone. Do anything but that. I can't. Not again. "Haphephobia...?" It's a question, a question for me. Oh god- breathe, just breathe it'll be fine. Don't be a burden. She's staring. She's staring frozen, as if waiting for me to do something. Something wet is dripping down my face. Is it blood, water or maybe even my brains leaking out? Sit down on the bed, that's what she wanted... right?

"You're all patched up and ready to go!" I nod to her, a simple, yet such relief inducing nod. As if saying 'I'm fine thank you.' Maybe she was just relieved I was leaving. That's probably true.

Today has been tough. It's windy today. Today has been eye opening; that no one will ever stop for me. I can't be angry at that. I unlace my shoes. I can't even be annoyed at that. I place them together—on the edge. The sun is setting. A deep breath. I pull out my phone and hit record.

"It's 6:14 on a Thursday evening," the wind ruffles my hair as I look up at the sky, "Thursday the 17th of May, 2018." I sit there for a good minute before continuing. "Did you know that Thursday is most definitely the best day to die?" A breath. "It's only by process of elimination though." I can hear, I can feel the scratchiness of my voice, how it sounds like it's metal scraping on each other. "I'm scared I'll be honest, I don't know whether it's of dying or the chance that I won't. Maybe it's of the chance I chicken out and have to redo this recording, or maybe that someone finds this one after chickening out." My lips purse. "Maybe I'm scared that it'll hurt less than everything else."

I gently push my way off the ledge. My breath won't catch. I can't feel anything. I can't feel. The wind is loud, whistling in my ears. I recognise this feeling. Is it acceptance, or denial? This question will never be answered for I am falling alone and alone I shall be. I hope nobo- a blood curdling scream tears itself from my lungs- a throb. I was right. It's not a real answer, but it's mine and it always will be because I can't change it anymore.

It hurts.