• I close my eyes and wait for the pain. I take a sharp breath as my wrist begins to sting. Then I open them and cut again.
    …shallow.
    …swift…
    …easy to heal…
    …easy to hide...
    …barely leaves a scar…
    …Then I’m lost...
    Lost in the pleasure as a thin sliver of blood trickles to the floor.
    Don’t want to stop. I know I must but I can’t…breathe…slice deeper.
    My mind is slipping.
    No, come back!
    What’s the use? I let it fade.
    My thoughts wonder back to friends, to family, to lost ‘loves’.
    All so useless.
    Causing only pain.
    I cut again.
    I look down briefly, vaguely seeing the checker pattern I had created.
    I close my eyes once again and bask in the sensation.
    I can feel my eyes start to water and burn.
    No!
    Only the weak cry.
    …I’m strong…
    …I’m strong...
    …I can handle this…I cut deeper.
    Shouting.
    Shouting from downstairs. I check to see the door bolted. I turn up to music and then I’m lost again.
    Lost in the harsh words that I’ve heard since birth:
    unwanted,
    useless,
    alone.
    Then ignored.
    Again, I cut.
    My wrist now leaks and gushes. My floor is stained. I won’t be able to explain this as a nosebleed again.
    Sigh.
    It was better when they didn’t care.
    Weren’t aware.
    Now they smother.
    Cut.
    Cut.
    Slice.
    Bleed.
    Lost in Insanity.
    Drowning in my Crimson Blood.