You know the reason I always cried?
I thought of cutting my wrist, putting a blade against my skin. Hearing people, telling me that it will remove the pain. The humiliation, the fear and anxiety I always had. But I stopped to think, holding a razor blade. Do I really want the scar, the memory will be recorded. I will give in, my weakness will be created and marked.
Instead, I shove the razor blade back into the drawer. I let my tears stream my face, letting my emotions drip. Then I created a way to cope, a way you and everyone else made fun of, and created a nickname. But guess what? I don't care anymore. I met people along the way that cut their wrist, and they never solved their problems. I saw that luckily I didn't go that road. The only thing I would have done was hurt myself.
And every time I'm devastated, I think of doing it. But I can't bring myself to do that for the same thought. Don't give in. So here I write, another way to cope. It helps, but what sucks is that I write my feelings when I'm down. I hope you can see that every time I get sad, I also ask myself many questions. It might just be in the moment, but those can be brutal thoughts that can lead me to the unthinkable.
At first it is small innocent thoughts "Why do I have tears when they don't solve anyting." But the level of sinister increases. Memories of those who failed me comes to my mind. Those who bring my spirit down, the ones who broke my heart. The wood to the burning fire. "What would happen if I wasn't here?" Nothing. No one will notice, or care. If they do, it is too late. Why do they now care when I'm gone. It makes no sense what so ever. "I'm done being here, and being the stress ball to everyone's problems."
The thought consumes me, and is hard to get out of, and it seems like another way out. Sometimes the mixture of emotions is the trigger to these thoughts. This is some sort of routine my mind goes through. And your not the only one.
