surviving.

It's been two months that I've been on this depression medication and I do believe it's working. I'm not saying that I haven't had anymore crashes but they are much less frequent and further in between. I'm still covered in sin and wanting so bad to get out. I'm trying to find myself again, find my God. He didn't leave me, I left him. Never again.

New scars line me now. A switch from two blades made for a deeper cut than I remebered. I need to stop.

This is selfish.

calling.

It's been 4.5 months since I've hurt myself, or rather, since I cut myself. Wrist banging counts as hurting. The cutting is still hard to control, although this is the longest stretch ever since I started seven years ago. My body has spilt it's share of blood.

I'm going to admit, right now, that I am addicted to cutting.I'm in love with it; Action and idea. The white lines that lace my skin call out to me and ask for more. I need more. Just a few more, then I will be done. One long pretty one for my arm, maybe with some smaller ones criss-crossing back and forth, back and forth white stripes that blossom red, spilling over and down my arms, warm red like a lover's caress.

This is a problem. I can't let myself do it, but it's like a drug and it leaves me shaking and crying and begging on the ground. "Let it tear, let it tear" I cry, but there is a part of me, I'm split in two, that holds me fast, stays my hand. I don't let me cut it out. I don't let me feel the red even though I want it more than anything.

Not anything, there is something I want more. So much more, that I'm willing to stop trying to stop.

But my arms are calling...

bloodless breakdown.

I haven't been feeling my best this week, mentally and emotionally. Last night I must have been tired because I broke down after he left. The urge to cut open my skin was so bad but I was able to keep myself from sharp objects and get to bed before I did some damage. I think that is the key there, or at least it helps. Make myself fall aleep before things get worse.

The cutting is no doubt an addiction and although my scars are hard to hide and to explain, I find that I like them now and I want more. More and worse ones. I don't think this is a cry for attention, I just love the way the white stripes cross my arms, my back, my shoulders. They tell a story and they are like art and my body is my canvas. I know I shouln't be ruining my body. It was created for me to use and to protect and to cherish. A body is part of the reason why we came to the earth anyway. But I went and got addicted to the pain, the red that follows, and the white reminders that are left behind.

I hope I get better, but part of me hopes I carry this with me always because it's a part of me now, but a crutch. I know I need to be strong enough to get rid of it, and so far I've been doing reasonable well. The last time I cut myself was April 12, 2012. It's been 2.5 months. Let's see how long I can keep this up.

scars.

I stripped down to my swimming suit, not remembering till after the angry marks that lined my thighs. An angel on my left, an apology on my right. I saw them look at the marks. The old and the new. I saw them watch my back, those raised white stripes are a curious sight for you, I bet.

I sat talking with him on the couch. I laughed and smiled and leaned my head against my outstretched arm. I saw his eyes flicker from one to the next, and the next, and the next. I slowly pull my arm back into my lap.

The hardest question that I cannot find an answer for: "What happened there?" I would think after all these years I would have a solid answer, but no. Sometimes I just want to reply, "Life." That wouldn't satisfy their curiosity. What happened? 

I felt.

I loved.

I sinned.

I hurt.

I hesitated.

I wronged.

I cried.

I kissed.

I touched.

I prayed. 

I lived.

red.

Red. A warning color designed by God for man. Red means stop. Red means injury. Red means warning.

I have come to love red. Red is an addiction that drips from my arms into the ivory sink. It fades from its angry mark to a pale pink, to a reminder of red. A whisper.

Red caresses my skin like a urgent lover. Opening my skin to let out my love.

My love drips red.

worth.

This feeling is creeping in but its not cold like others. It's like a virus that spreads through my body. Mistakes are made and here I am sitting in my blood, the scrape scraping sound of flesh pulls my mind away. Punishment for my deeds. All worth is gone. Empty without a ray of sun. Grey clouds cover my horizon and I know that I deserve it.
Revisit the lacerations with the clear liquid that makes it catch on fire; 50 times the initial pain, because I deserve it. Hopes and dreams, soft touches I longed for, lips I wished to caress, those yearnings are gone, burned away in sin and blood.
Soften my heart and help me be worth it, because I am lacking in worth.

12/04/10

We Won't Burn
I'll make you stop, look, and listen this time. There's nothing more pronounced than red. It sure makes a statement, especially when its dripping off my body. Next time, you think, because it takes two to tango and I really need some help stopping.
  When you start a fire, it really catches fast, and it's hard to stop. Burning to the core that leaves a smoldering passion in the center. Deeper and deeper you go and I can't but help falling with you. Untie me and let me climb back up because by the light is where I want to be when it all ends. Until then I'll light a candle and sit by myself, because if I sit next to you I burn.
  Time to recreate again, tear it down, just like I sang before. Now it starts, the constant worry, sick twisting feeling that makes me spin inside. You don't have to worry because only I get the consequence.
  Self, sleep tonight and don't dream. Don't feel, don't move, and don't burn. We have to wake up tomorrow, there's no doubt because we don't want to be stuck in the dark alone. Not tonight, not ever. So sleep, then wake. Smile and fake till its time to sleep again. No one wants to sympathize, empathize, realize that you're alone for now. Close your eyes so you can be closer to your next chance.
  Tomorrow, my dear Self, will be better. We'll be better. We won't burn.

10/19/10

Methods (Explicit)
  Anger and frustration just flare up inside me. I hit my fist against the steering wheel again. Feel the pain, that's good. But now its gone so I hit it again. I soak it in, feel the sharpness of it. But eventually that dissipates and I'm numb. Bang my wrist against the wheel. Get home and burn my arm with ice and salt, press the razor against the skin but I don't pull.
  I'll stop for you. I'm giving you my razors. You said I lied. I only lied to keep from hurting you and making you sad. Isn't that better than lying to you because I don't care about you? I think I'm slightly justified, but I'm still sorry. I curl up real small. I want you to hold me and make me safe. Like you said, the only thing you can't protect me from is me.
  I'm a monster waiting to break out and destroy the first thing I see. Which is me. I'm so tired. Let me sleep.

10/14/10

So, Tonight I Had An Idea 
So, tonight I had an idea that may sound a bit twisted but I think that's normal for me so far.
  I figure sometimes its best to force myself to do something that I won't want to do later when I'm in a different mindset. So while I still had my sanity (?) and my head on straight, I cut myself so he wouldn't touch me. Instant turn off I hope. Or maybe I'll remember them and say no before it gets that far.
  I thought it was a good idea. I feel bad all the time, and numb. I felt the cuts which was nice but now it just feels a little hot and cold with the irritated skin and cold blood. The pain was a nice treat. A little release from numbness. It's a controlled pain, which is why I think I like it. First time in a while. But at least I wasn't crying or super upset when I did it. Actually, having a calm rational (?) head while cutting your upper thighs probably isn't a good sign.
  I'm not emo, just so you know. I'm usually pretty happy until I screw things up and make a mistake. Maybe I should look for some counseling. For free? Aww, think you!
  I know that won't happen, but its nice to hope.