Midnight thoughts

One more cut

Warning:
This story includes self-harm and cutting. I do not support anything like that, if you feel like you need someone to talk to, or if you're maybe cutting, you can always always always dm me. I'll always have an open ear for you <3
But just in case you don't want that, keep in mind:
❤️YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE AND YOU ARE NOT ALONE❤️

I scratched the razor blade along my thigh.
Again.
And one more time.
I couldn't stop myself.
It just felt so good.
So freeing.
It made the pain better.
But I knew that it's not gonna last long, and when the numbing effect of these cuts will disappear, it'll only get worse.
But I didn't care.
All that mattered was the healing effect for the moment.
You know, cutting is like a drug addiction.
It makes you feel better, it makes you feel high.
But the effect will disappear and then, things get worse.
The pain.
And then you reach the point when you can't go back, can't stop yourself anymore.
When you really need it.
When you can't be without it.

I looked down at my thighs, where tons of cuts and scars were scratched into my skin.
Several were on my wrists and my ankles, too, but it hurts the most when I cut my thighs so I prefer them over other parts of my ugly, disgusting body.

I used to be very content about me and my body and all that.
But then, I broke up with my boyfriend Scott, who is very popular at my school.
So he called me a ugly whore and that I am a rebarbative hoe.
So many other people began calling me these things, just because of Scott.
He cheated on me and mistreated me so many times, but people didn't care at all.

I took another draw of the cigarette in my left hand and slowly blew the smoke out.
Abhorrent, I laid the razor blade aside to take a sip out of the almost empty tequila-bottle that stood next to me in the grass.
I was sitting at the border of the lake in the park, just thinking about my awful, senseless life.
If you can even call it a life.
It's almost morning again, I've been sitting here for the whole night, drinking alcohol and smoking a whole package of cigarettes.
Not to forget the new cuts.
I wonder if Scott knows, that he ruined me.
Broke me.
Used me.
Threw me away.
Just like I was rubbish.
What I actually am.

I couldn't resist but took the blade into my hand again and made a new cut, but at the sole of my left foot this time.
It will remember me of how terrible I am whenever I do a step.
This is probably the most productive idea I had for weeks.
It bled way more than I thought it would.
Shit.
I didn't wanna die.
Dying is too easy.
Like when you die, you don't suffer anymore.
All the pain is gone.
But that's what I don't want.
I want to feel the pain.
Feel how awful I am.
How ugly I am.
It didn't stop bleeding.
Fuck.
And then, my sight grew dim and I fell in coma.

All the Love,
xx toutletemps