Make Me a Promise here Tonight // Vic Fuentes ✘

Sometimes the Moon Looks Brighter than the Sun....

Thunder boomed loudly from outside my bedroom window and the rain started to pour uncontrollably.

There I was, sitting on the floor with my iPod in one hand, a razor blade in the other.

This was all my decision.

I either but the blade down, put in my headphones to listen to whatever songs started to play and forget about my tendencies, or

I put down my iPod and picked up the razor, bringing more scars to my skin that nobody cares about. That's one of the reasons I do it on my wrist and don't care. No one was going to look at them and worry. No one was going to look at them at all. I had no one. No one but myself and that's dangerous.
I'm a danger to myself.
I'm the cat, ready to kill the fish.
I'm ready.

I was so ready in that moment to hurt myself. Why do I do this? Why do I make my life harder by slicing into my own skin? I'll never know my answer because I've never even fully figured out me. I'm a mystery to all, including myself.

My mom always said it was because I had serious mental, suicide problems and needed help that she wasn't willing to give to me.

Thanks, mom.

I never really thought about if I was sick in the head. I probably am. I mean, I have these thoughts and commit these actions, yet I never fully care until long after. I have nothing to care about. Nothing to hold on to. Nothing.

I didn't necessarily want to die just then, but I wanted to be close. I wanted myself to suffer and that's what scared me. I had my real self that was terrified of sharp objects and had hope, then there was the wretched side of me that came out every time I laid eyes on something life-threatening. This side of me wanted me to die in pain. To suffer darkly and it took over a lot. Do normal people have these kind of two-sided stuff in their head? I wouldn't know.

My 'cat' coming out, I decided right then and there that I was going to drop...........

The iPod.

And pick up the razor.

Every time I cut Vic's voice would repeat itself in my head like a broken record that just plays over, and over.

"Promise me, that by the next time I see you, you will not have a single other scar, and that you won't cut yourself ever again. Please promise this, for me......"

That sentence never left my head. Ever. His voice was always there. For four years his voice still spoke to me but I never actually listened because I thought it was too late. It's too late to go back now. It's an addiction.

And every single time I went to hurt myself much like this moment, I'd ask Vic to forgive me. Every time.

"Forgive me, Vic," I whispered, my dark side taking over and mutilating whatever clear spots I had left without a care. I cried to myself as I did it, but the side that battled with me was telling me to shut up and enjoy it.

I hate myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Melody, we're going out today!" Vic called to me as I brushed through my black hair.
"I was thinking we could drop by the mall and get you some more clothes because it seems to be needed!"

I always had a problem with accepting gifts or letting people buy things for me. It always gave me a feeling of guilt.

"Oh......okay but you don't have to, Vic," I called back, realizing that he might not have heard me from how quiet I was.