You probably don't know me, you probably never will. You won't understand me, even if you were me. Cause I don't understand me.
I comb my fingers through my hair.
I wish I was a simple person, but no one really ever is. We all have our problems, I just call mine friends.
My fingers go numb, my arm is aching from being held up for so long. I ignore my body's protests.
I have tried to pray, but to what do I owe that pleasure? Why pray if I don't trust in my words, I might mislead an onlooker. I won't pray for myself. I can't find the light needed to pray.
Pull.
I should ignore this sensation, but my mind screams for the dopamine. I crave this relaxation. I can feel my pupils dilating.
Pull. Pull.
I want to scream. I want people to hear me. I want them to know what they are doing to me. I want to let go.
Pull. My fingers find a hair to wrap themselves around. The lone hair screams to be pulled. Pull.
I know what I am doing. I need to stop.
I lower my arm across my stomach, I still yearn for some form of satisfaction.
I can't let mom find out. She'll lose it. Mother was never good at keeping secrets, she will tell her sisters...
My arm lifts up to my jaw. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.Scratch. I pull my arm away and look down at my finger nails... bloody. I rake my fingernails over my teeth, they taste coppery.
I wish I were perfect. Then my life wouldn't be so complicated.
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This story is based on my life. Some of the actions may seem grotesque, unhealthy, or unsanitary, they are. But these problems are just that, and I live with them.
The video above describes my trich/derma issue. In fact, it describes it so completely, the video actually gave me a bit of closure.
