My Blade

I couldn't feel. I felt nothing except for the darkened overwhelming feeling of being lost. Lost and worthless. That was when I started.

The dark red color bleeding down my leg. It gave me control and it made me feel. Even though my emotions stayed locked up, when my blade pierced my skin it made me feel. Regardless of the fact what I felt wasn't emotion, I did it to reassure myself that I could still feel something.

I wanted someone to notice, I thought that if someone was there that they would help me feel without the use of a blade. The darkness in my heart was suffocating me, and with each cut I made it was easier to breathe.

I was so lost, so lost and so alone. I kept searching for someone to help me, but with each passing day I became more reckless. I would purposely burn myself, I would punch and hit myself 'till I bruised. I got so desperate to feel. I needed a bigger release. I thought about death.

To this day I do not know what held me back, but I can only be grateful to that unknown force. Sometimes I still think back to those times and shiver when I think what I might have done. I still wallow in darkness, but I had found a small light to hold onto. It took over fifteen people to penetrate the darkness that I held in my soul and even then it was only a small amount of light, but I grasp onto that light, I hold on, and fear letting go. Those people make me feel, they carved a hole of light into my darkness, and now I refuse to leave that hole.

I still keep my blade. It's in the bottom of my drawer. I do not use it though, I keep it there as a promise to not let anyone else live the way I have. I realize that hurting oneself is not a good answer, and even though it was an answer, it would of led me to my death.

Do not turn down the path I have, for I keep my blade so you do not have to.