Breaking Down Inside

Every night, a dark room. I would sit in silence my thoughts taking over me. I cry until i cant breathe , every memory like a sick memory playing in my head. My sweetest companion. I went to the spot opened my jewerly box meant for holding a single ring but instead inside it held a razor blade still covered in old blood. Cut until blood poured into my hands like a river. Leaking out of my wrists. Straight down. I use to write in a notebook with my own blood and my fingers. Then i moved to my legs and my stomach until the only thing i could feel was the burning sensations from the slits i left in my skin moments before. But after four years of hiding it and a sucide attempt. After hiding for so long under long sleeves and braclets people found out. Peers, teachers, therapists, my doctor, finally they told my parents. Ive had nothing to hurt myself with because its all been taken from me. In my therapy group i found a staple, cut my wrists with it. No one knew, but the next day i cut them again in therapy and the staff caught me. I went home that day and my mother asked to see my wrists legs and stomach she seen the fresh cuts and bandage the nurse forced me to wear on it. Today my mother asked me to clean the basement. I found an old razor. I held it in my hands and ran it across my finger. Wanting to hurt myself so bad i was going to hide it, but my father came down stairs and i was caught so i threw it and yelled at him to take it. My mother took my sweat shirt , yelled asking me "why do you have this what were you going to do with it !" But she already knew. I stood there silently while she screamed. Trapped myself down there. Cutting was the only thing keeping me alive and now the thoughts of dying corrupt my my mind.
CandyCryptic CandyCryptic
18-21, F
Jan 5, 2013