The Knife

It would never be me

When I replaced my dad's cigarettes with chalk as a kid, I'd decided I would never smoke. I saw his endless battle to stop, from trying to quit, to giving in, to try to quit again. And no matter how hard times got, I swore that would never be me.

When I banged my head against the wall, I figured it wasn't the same. Even as my fingers twitched with the need to slam into the wall like my parents' did for a cigarette, I swore it would never be me.

My knuckles bloody from ripping sticks across them, I joined my mom on the back porch. She had a vape in hand, a replacement for a cigarette, and I swore that would never be me.

I told my dad to have a good day and waited for him to drive off to work, knowing he'd have his cigarette while my clothes gained red stains, as I swore I would never touch that stupid blue box, knowing the blue plastic encasing my small knife, still clutched in my hand, was proof of that lie I truly meant as the kid who replaced their dad's cigarettes with chalk.

***

8/16/2023

For anyone wondering, I didn't write this because I relapsed. I'm fine, I just... I was thinking that poem I wrote about not knowing I was being abused as a kid as I was walking to Dad's office after school. Because there's a line in there where I talk about there not being blood "except the blood I drew myself." I used that poem for a school assignment in 11th grade, but I took out that line and changed a couple others so I didn't accidentally get CPS called or my teacher call home and Dad finds out about my self harm problem that way. But it's one of those lines I actually think about a lot, because I grew up with parents who struggled with addiction. I saw how hard they tried to quit. Dad hasn't been able to. Mom switched substances. I saw it. And when I started, I told myself that I could stop at any time. That I would always have control over it despite being told over and over that one time is all it takes. Sometimes it makes me feel really stupid. The "it won't happen to me" mindset is lethal. I wish I was joking, but it really is. The last traumatic event I went through was because my friend openly admitted to doing something traumatizing to someone else, and I figured it sucked, but he wouldn't do that to me. But he did. And addiction got me. And that mindset is a safety net that got removed the second I wasn't looking. And I didn't notice until I was already falling. I shouldn't have fallen. I shouldn't have climbed onto the rope. I shouldn't have turned what my child self believed so much into a lie. But I did. And there's nothing I can do about it now but try not to let it get any worse. Which so far, I'm getting better at keeping the urges at bay and finding things to do when they get bad. I think that's the best I can do right now. But it's hard not to think about that line, and even harder not to think that it shouldn't have been one I ever felt the need to write.