In my dreams I'm eleven years old sitting at my desk pulling erasers off my pencils and carefully removing the metal piece that connects them to the wood shaft. I pound them flat and store them in my binder. Some pencils have better metal pieces than others, they hold their shape better, they're harder and sharper and if you press just right, they'll get the job done the first try.
In my dreams I'm thirteen and I find out about box-cutter blades from a friend. I go to the store with my mom looking nervously around to make sure nobody notices me stick a pack of them in my pocket. They work so much better than the eraser pieces. I hide them in my special secret box and look at them at least once a day to make sure they're safe, my little treasures.
In my dream I run out of room for the first time and I wonder if I should just go deeper overtop the parts that haven't healed yet. I don't know my limits yet; how hard I can press before I send myself to the emergency room. I keep thinking about it until I realize I'm going to fucking kill myself.
In my dreams I tell my mom I have to go to the hospital and the shame I feel as I roll up my sleeves is enough to wake me up most of the time. The nurse tells me to take off my clothes and she clicks her tongue as she records my too-many-to-count scars. My mom is crying.
In my dreams I go to group therapy and see other kids with scars, and I wonder what they used and how many they have and if they like it as much as I do. They ask me why I do it and I don't know; they tell me everyone has a reason and I say I don't know. The other kids have it worse. Real problems. I just do it for fun.
In my dreams I figure out what I'm doing is maladaptive and I need to stop. Of course, I always knew there was something wrong with it, that it wasn't something normal people did. Still I made excuses, I explained to myself that other people hurt themselves with drugs and alcohol and that my hurt was safer in the long run. I learned that just because you'll survive something for a long time doesn't mean it's not killing you.
In my dreams I can't stop. I don't want to stop. It feels good and It takes me somewhere I want to stay. Every visit gets shorter until I need to go deeper to get my high. I can't keep friends because they think I'm crazy, and maybe they're right.
In my dreams I'm happy with myself. In my dreams I'm having fun. In my dreams I'm totally free. In my dreams I live my best memories over and over. In my dreams I don't want to wake up.
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Healed
Short StorySometimes the hardest part of recovery is accepting that it's successful. For Isaac Martin, even a perfect life with his beautiful wife and daughter isn't enough to make him forget his past. Blades still call out his name, and his skin begs to be pi...
