Unpretty

Unpretty - 18

What do you do when you feel that the one thing that mean so much to you more than anything else starts to slip further away from your grasp?

You feel it so near that you can touch it, only to have it seized from your hands?

When panic engulfs you like a raging wave and you cannot possibly think of a way out of it?

And if like me, you see your face bleeding with all the open cuts you made to your face yourself, what would you do?

Do you cry? Call for help?

Or simply let yourself bleed and let death take you?

Perhaps you’d do one or two, if not all these things.

But unlike you, I do not cry and I do not call for help.

Instead I lean towards the sink and wash away the blood off my face with water.

I take no notice of the ever present pain.

I think of nothing else but to get through this on my own.

I have gotten used to having people fail me, like the doctors that said they’d fix my face, that I choose to rely completely on myself and not ask for help.

I whisper words to myself so I can drive away the panic and go back to being calm.

I whisper that all is not lost and that I can do it all over again.

I purposely avert my eyes from the mirror as I stand and grab a clean towel nearby. 

I refuse to look at my face, not now when I’m trying to keep calm.

Seeing so much blood and the wreckage of my face will only elevate panic and dread.

With my back from the mirror, I wipe away the dripping water and press the towel on my face.

Please stop bleeding.

But no, it doesn’t stop. I take the towel away and stare at the blood.

So much blood.

I feel a new surge of pain on my face; right in the middle of it.

A loud thump of my heart acts as a confirmation of my gut feeling where the pain is coming from.

I turn around to face the mirror and see the stitches of my nose unravel; my nose ridiculously hanging on my face.

So much for wiping the blood away and trying to stop it, here I manage to add more cuts and more source of bleeding.

I wonder how I would resume with what I am doing if it doesn’t stop bleeding. 

I decide not to wait and grab the needle and start stitching the cut on my face.

But I miss several times that I throw away the needle and go back to holding a towel on my once again blood soaked face.

I hold the towel with my right hand and with my left I hold the sink to support myself.

By now, my legs begin to feel weak and I involuntarily drop to the floor.

I go on wiping my face with the towel despite my weakening hands.

Nausea attacks me together with the aching of my cuts.

Panic defeats calm.

As I lay on the floor and my hands falling on my sides, my eyes begin to close.

And in that moment of confusion and weakened senses, only then do I notice my bathroom floor with so much blood.

Sorry for the  lateness of this page and probably the following pages. I got sidetracked. hehe. Anyway, I freaked out when I logged in to see this reached 100,000 reads already. Thank you! :D