Drip.
Drip.
Drip. I cry as the towel slides from my body onto the floor. A cold chill creeps across my alabaster skin as I look in the mirror. It was the ugliest sight I had ever seen... My body was bony and sunken in, lacking curve in places is should be abundant and my bones jaggedly stuck out. It looked as though they were being suffocated by my skin and was trying to escape. My skin itself was pale and lifeless, covered in red bumps and marbled scars, creating zig zag texture all over. Only, some of them were white, some were pink and slightly puckered... But the most noticeable were the angry red ones. They laid in my skin, each and every one of them telling it's own wretched story within the tragedy of my life. I hated those zig zags. Then again, I couldn't live without them... When I don't have them my skin itches, my body craves the pain. And right now my skin is on fire!
With tears streaming down my face I go to my dresser drawer and recover a clay razor. It's long, but it's cold steel edge is sharp. It glints in the light in the most appealing way, as if it is calling my name. I sit, legs exposed and let it bite my skin. One cut. Two cuts. Three cuts. Four. The number still crawls up, each deeper than that of the one prior. My salty tears wiggled their way into some of the deepest and I whimpered, the pain getting greater but I embraced it. I deserved it. I felt the warm life force drip down my thighs and had to stop, in fear of staining my mother's carpet. I wrapped them up and then put on my sweats to cover them. Returning my blade to its cranny, I close my eye and sighed to myself.
This is my little secret. My one habit no one needs to know about...
Oh Jenni, you silly girl, that's not the only one, now is it...?
A/N Hey guys, I know this is a bit dark and a morbid way to start a story but this isn't the way it will be written all of the way through. Mostly it will be in format of an autobiography, but some scenes will be like this one. I'll make sure to warn you in the title. Please let me know how it is!!! Mwah... xoxo
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My Self Harm Story...
Non-FictionSo this is only going to be a four part story - the first chapter a narration of an actual moment that I broke down. The second my definition of self harm and how I feel about it. The third the addiction and how strong it was. And the forth my recov...