The pain I feel on the inside carries so much weight, it is a burden of unbearable measure, and nothing can take it away. Nothing can quench the dry thirst of a brokenness so gripping, so consuming, so painful. It punches the heart and strangles the throat. It leaves me alone and broken into so many pieces that I wonder if I'll ever be whole again. I see it every time I look in the mirror...it stares back at me with dead eyes. Void and uncaring. It leaves me desperately desiring to be dead inside. And all at once, it becomes too much. It overflows from the very core of my being to drops of blood streaming down my arm. And I see it...the physical manifestation of what is going on inside of me. I am alone, and my wounds comfort me. They provide a solace, a sanctuary from myself. Relief and anguish in one swift motion after another. I bleed the tears I cry alone in the dark, the fear I feel when I'm alone, the food I vomit. It is soothing, it is safe. I can physically carve out my emotions on a map of skin, and I feel comforted. My wounds are with me. They always will be.
I've been there. You probably don't believe that, and I wouldn't if someone said the same to me. I cut myself for five years. I learned to love it, because it was the only way I felt I could really express my emotions. I felt release, relief, joy. It was secretive and not for show, and I'll have thousands of crooked white scars under my right breast for the rest of my life. I haven't cut for a year now.
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone. This pain is not the only comfort. I don't know much about your life, but I know you are here in this community. That means that you will always have a home, a support system. We love you, we support you, we want the best for you. :) Do something nice for yourself today. Go for a long walk.