I really hate doing this. I hate coming back this blade every time. Is my life so full of shame and regret that I can't feel anything else except the cuts on my arms?
I've stared at the blood that comes from my arms so many times now. The box cutter I use has suddenly become an old friend. The kind of friend that's always there to remind me that I'm still alive in this world.
I try talking to others about it. Some are sympathetic to my indulgences in self-harm. But I'm sure they also think it's easy to stop doing. But they don't know. They don't understand the tinge of sadness, loneliness and regret that I can't seem to shake no matter how many times I've tried doing so. And how can I expect them to understand? They live lives full of drive, happiness and purpose. They can't possibly understand what I'm going through.
It's not like I haven't tried letting go of this pain. I really have tried.
But it's not easy for me to let go. No amount of talking, therapy or medication can remove the scars on my heart. That kind of pain follows you forever. Like an empty shadow of a wasted life.
So I cut. I shouldn't. But I do.
The scars last on my arms for a few days and then I go right back to cutting my arms again. I've become so used to seeing them on my arms that they feel empty when they're not there.
I cut myself because I don't want to deal with the emotional pain that eats me inside. I try to remember talking to someone every time I feel like cutting, but it doesn't have the same effect on me as cutting does.
Most people would probably think I'm sick for doing this. Most would never talk to me again. I don't need those people anyway. They can't possibly remove the scars on my arms. Let alone the scars on my heart. Only a handful of people can do that. And I barely hear from them.
So in their absence, I cut.
So what does all this cutting mean for me? I don't know.
Will I survive the next few years? I don't know.
Will I cut too deep someday that I accidentally kill myself...?
I don't know...
But in the absence of the others, I'd rather deal with the scars on my arms than the scars on my heart...