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Anonymous
Copyright, Anonymous
horrible days suffocated me in the back room for years after i was 10 and had decided to let go of feeling lonely and shedding tears. i had spent a few more years in the grips of a blade or razor, even scissors if i had to. instead of trying to make them understand, i read my books, every one i could rest hands on because i was so intelligent and my life was going to be great. words like that would pound in my head as my grades slipped and my hurt turned to anger and resentment. and then after a couple years, the cutting stopped, completely. everything i felt disappeared until i felt nothing. no hurt could touch me and no tears could escape. so when my heart grew heavy i would sit in the back room, lounging back in the pink chair, and i would watch the sunlight dance off the wall. the feeling would drown me until i was consumed by nothing else. the seasons changed and yet everyday after school i sat there and stared at the same spot on the wall and the tree still trembled there and the sun still danced. and i couldn't ignore the heavy feeling in my legs and the hurt that still lingered in the air as i breathed in my shallow, painful breaths. junior year of high school started and so did my cutting. i can't say exactly when or how or why, but none of that has any relevance anymore. family and friends never knew, it wasn't for them to know, and my individuality covered it well with wraps and bracelets. this was an addiction. even just thinking about it would get my skin crawling on my wrist. it's like a drug that you know will hurt you, and yet you take it anyway to feel as alive as you can. when i needed to escape, or i felt horrible stress mounting over me, or i felt hurt and angry, completely numb, out of control, i could take out that blade, cold and wonderful and brush it against my skin. i would press down its torture into my skin and hear it tear, just a bit. it was a sweet self torture, that would release everything that tears could not and give me pleasure enough to feel alive. hurt so good had new meaning. until victor found out, and i promised him to stop and couldn't hold to that. the pain in his eyes filled me with tears for the first time in 7 years. so i stopped, and then had only my rubberbands to slap my wrists. pain in any way possible. and i felt broken. through this my dear chris died and i thought for sure the only way out was my lonliness and my blade. but victor held me and took my blade, forced a hole in me through which all my pain began to filter through. and i no longer wear rubberbands. for almost 2 months now i have performed no act of pain on myself at all. and though thinking of it makes it hard, i now know there are other things to make me feel alive, to relieve my stress and anger, my hurt, and to keep me in control.