Trigger Warning: Self-Harm
I've never really felt the urge to self-harm, only once before. But tonight, my wrist randomly started itching very intensely.
I scratched my wrist raw for hours. But the itching wouldn't stop, it would just get worse. And I would just keep on scratching. Finally, at around 5 in the morning, I had had enough, I grabbed the first sharp thing I could find, my pocket knife.
I touched the blade right where the itching was, and I pushed down. After that it happened very fast. I saw blood, it felt so good. I drug the knife farther down, this was the best thing I've felt in forever. I was in a state of pure bliss. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up and just let myself feel.
I got snapped back into reality when the knife fell out of my hand and onto the bed. I got hit by giant wave of panic. I grabbed my arm and opened my bedroom door. I took a deep breath and tried to walk as casually as I could to the bathroom, so that my brother wouldn't be suspicious.
I made it to the bathroom and locked the door, I immediately turned on the sink and let the warm water run in and around my wound. I had cut deeper than I thought.
I shut the water off and grabbed a wad of toilet paper, pressed it against my arm, and ran upstairs to the medicine cabinet. I grabbed the medicine basket and went into the master bathroom. I took some Neosporin and bandaids out of the basket. I started to get light-headed.
I took the toilet paper off my arm and shook my head. We didn't have enough bandaids to cover this up. I got some new toilet paper and pressed it on my arm. Then I got some wrap and started dressing my arm. It went all the way from my wrist to my inner elbow.
I took a deep breath once it's all wrapped. I clean up my mess and put the basket back into the medicine cabinet. I feel like I'm about to pass out. I go to the kitchen to get a drink of water. I grab onto the table to steady myself, my vision starts to get blurry. I try to fight my way to the sink, I can't pass out, then they'll know what I did. I build up enough strength to get a glass of water. I gulp the whole thing down. I know I don't have enough strength to get back down to my room, so I walk to the couch and lay down.
I wake up, and I can hear my parents talking, I lay there and pretend to sleep until they leave for work. Once the door closes I get up and practically run down to my room. I look at my bed and my heart sinks, the pocket knife is still there. Shit. I pick it up and bring it to the bathroom to clean it off. I throw my bed sheets in the washer. I feel a sharp pain in my arm and I wince.
I can't believe I did this, what was I thinking? I can't let anyone know this happened. I grab a sweatshirt from my closet and put it on to hide my wrapped arm.
That was so foolish, yet it felt so good. That was the best I've felt in so long. How can it be that something so wrong felt so right? Cliché, I know. But I swear, I felt like I was on top of the clouds, I would give anything to feel that again.
