5/7/13
11:14 PM
Getting home from school I lied. I faked a migraine to get out of physical therapy. I had a hard day. Someone else at school has found out my secret. I am worried. I am afraid. I already have to deal with the pitying looks from the guidence counselor and nurse, I couldn't bare that from my favorite professors. I love my professors this year.
I never realized until class was already over that my sleeves had ridden up. He smiled at me.
"Angry cat?"
"Yeah, sucks..."
"Because cats are good for making four precise cuts in a row on both wrists, right?" And with that by-your-leave he was gone, off to his next class.
I think my professor notices, but she has never confronted me. She has actually taken to ignoring me as often as possible.
It hurts. I feel alone; isolated from the rest of the world, so I cut. Again, and again, and again.
Seeing so many people online who are better kills me inside. They don'y harm themselves at all anymore, whereas I cannot get through a single class without digging my nails into my thighs, picking out the scabs on my wrists, and even sometimes going into the loo with a handy piece of broken glass I have secreted away in my ruck-sac.
'What the fuck is wrong with me?' A question I truly believe I will never stop asking myself. I am so fucked up; so many diseases plague my mind and pull me down, slowly, into the dark and desparing pits of purgatory. Its true: I feels as if I am in some sort of hell. Sitting awake every night for hours, I make up stories in my head. Dozens of characters who are strong, fierce, and independent; women who do not need a blade to feel at peace with their own mind and body.
I believe my soul is slipping away, that is if it is not already long gone.
For many weeks now I have taken to a new saying: "Peter took my marbles with him when he went back to NeverLand; for safe keeping."
I wish I could be Peter Pan; to fly away into the night to a far away island of magic and love and adventure. Battling pirates, dancing with Indians, swimming with mermaids. Or to meet the Doctor and walk through the TARDIS doors; be whisked away to see the birth and death of our world, a supernova in stasis, exploding stars, whirling nebulae, exotic alien creatures beyond my wildest dreams. To run, and run, and never EVER have to look back. What will become of us? It is of no importance.
Maybe I will recieve an overdue letter to Hogwarts. Find out I am a witch of amazing power with a great destiny. That I was placed with a muggle family, when really I belonged to the greatest witch and wizard the world had ever know; birthed from pure, love-enforced, powerful magic that can give me back the strength and faith and hope that I lost years and years ago.
Suicide is a frequent thought on my mind, but I will admit to you I have not the courage to press the blade down that hard, take that many pills, or make that final leap. However, I have always wanted to know what it would feel like:standing atop a skyscraper, looking down at the ants of people under you, it unbeknownst to them that a fragile soul, a fourteen year old girl, could come plummeting down to the very street upon which they are swaggering. Would it give me rush of adrenaline? Or Fear? Would I be able to take that one final step towards the peace, the end to all my suffering, that I have been yearning for? I truly do not know.
That is why I cut; at least one of the reasons. It makes me feel alive; that rush of adrenaline that comes hand in hand with slicing apart my thighs, wrists, arms, hips, shoulders, stomach etc. It is a cycle. I am triggered, I have the urge, I fight the urge, I give in( I cut, I relapse), then I recover. It keeps going, sometimes fast sometimes pitifully slow, and it never stops.
This is all my life has become. I am consumed by it; the lust for pain and blood. I need help. I am afraid to ask for it. Will they pity me, fear me, misunderstand me, or mistreat me? Yes, I know they will. This world we live in, it is cruel, violent, and demonic. Sins will forever consume the human race just as disease and politics. I am already pitied enough, I desire no more.
I do not want to seek attention, that is not what is is for. I want people out there like me to know they will never be alone. I also want to release the tortured thoughts which occur in the dark abyss that is my mind.
As I had the urge to cut once more tonight before kipping in for the night, instead on a blade to my wrist, I brought a laptop to my hands. I have released tonight's loudest demons. I want to do this more; writing to keep myself free of cutting, and my readers free of loneliness and isolation.
Forever A Tortured, Fallen Angel;
your Bo Jones <3