Wildflower| Vmin

Harm is the only Way

[Trigger warning: This contains self harm.]

A deafening silence coat the cadet grey walls,the unceasing tickling of dusky clock occasionally resounding down the ears. Through the delicate slit of the blinds,a pearl white body and it's twinkling companions peeks right into the dingy room and faintly irradiate it.

A gentle gust of wind coolly strokes a patch of my skin and tugs me to cradle in its soothing arms. Oh how much I yearn to be soothed,to be hushed and lulled but one cannot,not until their raging minds are pacified.

When you're constantly confined into spirals,into  never ending whirlpools,surfing the waves seems a strange fantasy,only because you're frantically struggling to breathe when you're not even drowning. You feel yourself shrinking in a pool of deep waters when there's actually none,feel astray as if stranded on a remote island whilst walking down a bustling fair.

What seems like a silent night is verily the loudest and today is no different. I can feel the slow tightening of air as the frenzied mind clutches at my throat. The superficial spirals seems inevitable,striving ever so slowly to knock the air out. Amid the thickened clouds of quietude,the mind drives deeper into hysteria,an uncanny daze. I gulp,quietly. It's happening,yet again.

Warned you but you like being the dimwit you are. The needless yet overcrowding atrocious thoughts haze the mind,making my existence feel a mere ridicule. You're pathetic. Pathetic. The bunch of letters resonates aloud,nestling a home down the heart. Pathetic,that's what I am. But the resonating sound is far more feeble than the one echoing in the enclosing walls of the mind.

Intrusive voices begin to fill the cave that rests in the depths of darkness and numbing frigidness,my mind. Invasive images,anonymous voices and frightening thoughts  crumble a faltering conscience.Panic and frenzy engulfs me as the spirals deepens every crossing minute. Vivid ideas slowly strives to persuade to commit the irreversible to myself. 

Let's jump off a ledge or maybe crash into a wall or maybe-hey we have a knife too!c'mon choose one already. The dreadful,intrusive thoughts trail with an outrageous range,stifling every littlest of glimmer,every hope to escape the enormous whirlpool that seeks to haul until I drown.

I clutch onto the pastel sheets, ever so tightly,wrinkling it's unwrinkled fabric under my intense clutches and squeezing my eyes shut.

There's isn't an uproar in the four walled chamber,dead silencing still lingering in the deepest of the corners but the external calm conceals the thundering chaos,the exhausting tussle with the mind. 

At this point where the rebellious mind has turned quite persistent,i breathlessly long for an escape,for the mind to cease all the petrifying scenarios i strongly detest. I wish to somehow benumb the the mind and maybe i know the way.

Slowly yet steadily, I untangle a hand from the sheets. I can break free,i whisper to the tiny part of myself that is somewhat hidden and somehow sane. To flee the dreadful confinement,i discard the sloppy fabric wrapped around my torso,the bare skin now embracing the bracing air of a prolong,restless night.

In the inky darkness and quite pale moonlight,i descry the long and irregular light brown patches with a tint of blood red unfold at upper abdomen and trailing lower down to the ends of waist,some even lingering over the upper skin of the thigh. The blotches vary in shades,some are deep crimson as a consequence of another parched layer over the skin;some are faded brown,a consequence of gradual healing.

I suck in a deep breath and place my fingers over the part of the skin that's stripped off any marks,clear like an empty canvas. Encaving the fingers into an irregular fist,except the index and middle one's,I ghostly hover them over the delicate skin of the lower abdomen.

Digging the nails of the index and middle finger,I affix them to the clear portion of skin before dragging them lightly against it. I stop amid to scrutinize the patch of skin. Nothing.

Sinking my nails deeper into the flesh,I further apply a greater pressure to drag them over the dermis. Nails motion in a to and fro movement but rather aimlessly until I bring them to a halt to observe the lower abdomen,it's color turning from a light to a darkening one,ruby one to be precise.

This time, I dig into the flesh with much severity and haul the nails with greater power and force,desperate to feel anything but the intrusiveness of dark,invading thoughts of a raging mind.

Long ruby impressions of piercing nails imprint on the now florid skin,deliberate scratches evidently adorning it like ornaments of Christmas.

The aggravating voice is slowly narrowing and softening but still haunting. Determined to dissipate the overwhelming urge to commit the irreversible,i relentlessly scrape the skin,over and over and over again.

A stinging sensation washes over,dominating the invading voices for a few moments and granting an escape lasting for a fractions of second. The pricking,stinging sensation isn't severe enough to howl in agony or maybe i have just grown custom to it,it's a good thing that the pain is inequivalent to the wound,right?

 The traces are now a deeper hue of red,the skin,a thick layer stained in patches of dry clotted blood. The once vacant canvas is vaguely smeared in crimson where the skin is cracked open  single handedly with flat sharpened nails. Art. I low key disagree.

The crimson fluid isn't flowing as hastily as a speedy course of river,rather, there's only a little of it splattered where the skin is lightly slit open. Certainly,fingernails aren't as piercing as knives but the web of bloody scratches by those of flat sharp nails are as stingy as those created by knives. 

While a gash by a knife gushes thick blood and agony 'all at once',tearing of the skin by that of nails brings gradually suffering,beginning from that of florid skin and vague patterns of  embroidered slits to gentle trickle of blood,a gradual surge of pain that impressively draws and strips off the undesired thoughts.

The conflicting voices and dreadful anguish have subsided ,intrusive thoughts have now been disrupted and hushed,the once intense tussle has dwindled and i have earned a triumph over the raging mind,for now.  

Another perk of fingernails over knife involves little to no after work. Unlike the wounds created by cold tip of knife,the mesh of scratches by fingernails don't bleed excessively.

I don't need to suffer the consequences. There's no act of staining the tissues blood red,aiding and bandaging the wounds,all I need to bear is the stinging sensation that remains for a few days and maybe the scar that remains for a few months.

But that's still better than getting myself hit by a truck,right?

I slightly jolt and look up from the freshly carved wound upon the mellifluous chirping of bird. A bird!?
I glance out the window to realize that the white crescent and it's twinkling companions have silently moved out of the window frame.

But it's still dark,a little too dark to call it a morning. I grope for my phone and squint my eyes at the bright radiation emitted by the same as I struggle to read the time. 4:27 AM.

And instantly I feel my eyelids drooping close,my body crumbling of exhaustion.
I feel too weary,too drained to even put back the thin piece of clothing over my bare torso. I sigh as a sting washes over for a bare second as I shuffle on the disheveled bed.

Drowsy,I slump back into the bed as the crisp winds blows,soothing to the soul. I lay there,listening to the whispers of winds.

A few melodious chirping continues as the little creatures warble in the cool darkness of dawn,awaiting for the earliest ray of sunrise to strike the sombre sky and mold it into a broad daylight.

🌱

A/N

You're beautiful,worthy and treasured. Never forget that nothing would have been the same were you not there and nothing will ever be.

You're not pathetic,broken or defected. You're different and lovely.

Lately,if no one has reminded you then let me:
You're precious and I love you,okay?