It starts out slowly. Like you don't even know what's going on in your own brain. You just feel lonely, even around people close to you, and a little sad. You don't even know why. As weeks pass, the loneliness increases. Loneliness turns into questioning why you are alone. You seem to think that everyone around you secretly hates you. You start to question every look you receive, even swift, passing glances. You think everyone is judging you for things you cannot control. You start to hate yourself so much because you are so alone when everyone else has someone. You can't even breathe properly. Your heart seems to be beating at a million beats per second. You close your eyes and you just want it to be over, in any way possible. Your thoughts wander back to where they haven't been in at least 2 years: suicide. That absolutely terrifies you. You never want to be back in that dark place again.
You start looking for a way out of this crippling terror and self hatred inside your mind. The drinking has already failed to get rid of these thoughts of hatred. You start picturing sharp objects running across your skin. You don't even know why you want to; you just know that it has to happen. You fight the urges. You've heard the stories about "those people." The cutters. They just do it because of boredom. Or the attention. Or they listen to too many sad songs. There's always a reason to judge them. That's all you've heard about them all your life. But still, you cannot forget those thoughts. How lovely it must be, exchanging that horrible emotional pain for physical pain. Physical pain you've always been able to handle. You're so used to it
You still remember the first cut. The comment that made you need to slice your skin. You can still hear the soft words spoken behind your back. You realize you will always be a second choice to these people, the ones who claim to love you the most. If you are a second choice to the ones who claim to love you, what ranking do you earn for others? Those words making you know you're the second choice make up your mind. You know then, in that moment, that it is time. It has to be now or you'll hate yourself forever, or die soon.
You sneak out into the kitchen in the middle of the night, feeling the cool wooden floor beneath your feet, praying silently that it won't creak. You slowly open a drawer, trying to be as quiet as possible, and you see them, the kitchen knives. You hear your older brother cough in his bedroom that he shares with his girlfriend right beside the kitchen. Only a thin wall separates you from people who would stop you. You stand there, silent, afraid to be caught.
After a few moments pass in that silent stance, you silently pull a couple of knives out of the drawer; you test them to see which is sharper. You put away the dull knives. You smile slightly, not knowing that this will be the moment that changes everything. That one day soon that this will be the center of your life. You just need to know what it feels like, because if you continue on the path you're on, you know all hope will be lost for you. You don't know how to ask for the help you so desperately need, afraid that if you asked for that help, no one would care enough to give you their hand to pull you up out of this crater of depression.
You hold that sharp knife against your wrist, feeling the cool blade against your skin. You pull the blade away. You repeat this a few more times, trying to resist because you know in the back of your mind that this isn't smart. You make that decision and gently run the blade of the knife across your wrist, trying to gain the courage you need to make this decision. It's not enough to hurt. It just feeling like the soft tickle, and it reminds you of high school when one of your best friends would run her nails down your arm when you got stressed. It's such an innocent feeling, nice, in fact. You press the knife deep into your skin and pull it across. To your frustration, it barely makes a scratch. You press harder when you repeat, desperate for more pain, again and again in the same place until you see it and gasp. The first blood. It barely even oozes out of your wrist, but it will do for tonight.
