73 Days

Day 28 - Draw With Me

D R A W  W I T H  M E

D A Y 28

Last night, all I wanted to do was cut. All I wanted to do was relapse and feel the sweet relief of the blade sliding across my skin. It's so dangerous, to keep that blade on the shelf besides my bed...it's always beckoning me, you know. I should throw it out...but it's like a safety blanket...if anything ever goes terribly wrong, I know that it'll be sitting there, right on that shelf. I tried to call you the other night...with my home phone...it went straight to voice mail. I guess you don't want to help me anymore...I guess that's it. I guess if I fall, you really won't be there to catch me anymore. If I want to attempt suicide...you won't even try to stop me...

That's a lot of power to put into my hands, you know. Now, normally, a person should always have that power. A person's life should always been in their hands and their hands only. Am I really capable of guarding my own life? After you've protected it for so long? Are you sure? I suppose it's not really my choice what you want to do with our relationship...but I thought you would always be my safe guard...but you're not anymore. I'm all alone...completely alone.

Am I ready for that? Am I ready to guard my own life? I'm scared, I really am. I was suicidal last night...I wanted to rip open a bottle of pills and just throw them all down, and not even think about the world anymore. There was a also this new part of me...this part that wanted to live. She wanted desperately to live. She wasn't there before...but she was now. This new part of me didn't need the drugs, or the blade, or even you...

I turned on my phone, and I really did think for a bit about texting you. Well, first of all, it was two in the morning. There was no way you would answer, and if you did, you would be quite pissed off. I don't think you care about my life anymore...but I don't know...second of all, you send all of my messages straight to your email..which you so rudely indicated you "only check at MOST once a day". Even if I had tried to reach out for help, it wouldn't have gotten to you until days after...I might have already been dead by then. I don't know if you would care...if that would hurt you at all, to open your email one day and find that I had made several desperate attempts at contacting you to preserve my own life...only to fail. I don't know if finding out that I was dead and the last person I reached out to was you would hurt you. I really don't know...I didn't want to do that to you. If you really did care, deep down, then I didn't want to hurt you. I know at one point in time, you did love me. If there was even a small part of you that still did love me...I didn't want to hurt you at all. I knew there was a possibility that if you opened that email, and found out I was gone, you would be distraught. I didn't even bother trying to contact you except for the one failed call I made with my home phone...if I was going to kill myself, I wouldn't even bother...I wouldn't want you do know. It would be for the better. It would be like I just dissapeared, and you would just forget about me...you know, to be honest, it's already like I'm kind of dead. The way you send all my messages to email...I feel like I don't exsist...and it hurts...

I tried to think of happier times. I tried to think of times when you cared, to remind myself that at one point in time, somebody did care. And if somebody cared back then, somebody cares now, right? I looked through our old chatlogs...and it made me a little bit more happy...just remembering you made me a little bit happier...I tried to think of other ways to vent out my pain...I tried to think of ways that wasn't destructive to me, or you, or anyone else.

So, I took out my pencils and my paints and I started drawing again. It felt so good...I just kept drawing, and I put all my energy into that. I love drawing people, especially their eyes...that's my favorite part of people, you know. You can always tell how a person is feeling by their eyes...I want my drawings to reflect the feeling in people's eyes, too. I didn't cut that night. I didn't take any pills, or anything like that...I just drew. Everything was okay. I just released all the bad energy into something good...really good. I remember...you always liked my art...but I was so mean to you...I always insulted you, and claimed that you hated my art, and that you critisized me, and that you liked other people's art more than mine...I was such a jealous little child. I'm so sorry...you were my biggest supporter, you know? I didn't really show off my art, or my stories, or my poetry to anyone..just you...

That's another thing that helps. Writing. Even just writing this diary helps...but creative writing. That's what really helps. I can escape to this other world for a little bit...and just focus on that. I love creativity.

I know this sounds weird...but I'm really proud of myself. I didn't cut...I drew...I didn't break down, I just let myself vent through creativity...I solved the problem without hurting myself or hurting anyone else...and that's something that's really new to me. I really like it...I get so much more in the end with creativity, because the only thing I got with self-harm was (literally) bandaid solutions...

I just want to thank you for helping me be creative, and supporting me, and now that I'm well enough to realize all you did for me, and how much you cared about my art and my writings, I just want to say sorry... I'm doing so much better now, I can realize my mistakes. I see who was really helping me...

I didn't bother you, and even though I thought I needed you, I really just needed something to get my mind off the pain. I guess that's why I always tried to bother you...to get my mind off things. In the end, I just transfered the negative energy to you.

Now I take my negative energy and make it into something creative and beautiful.