Some Scars Don't Heal

I cried. I knelt over the bench, then i fell to my knees, then i fell to the fall, curled up in a ball, screaming in pain i was crying so much. I came home from school just to cry. I was feeling so much pent up frustration and agony over a boy, which i know sounds silly. He was manipulating me, using me, playing with my heart.

I had never wanted anyone as much as him, and he knew it, and played with that fact. Leading me on, and then would rip my heart out in front of me as he desperately tried to get with my friend in front of me. She wasn't really my friend, just using me too. She enjoyed pushing him away, just because she could and would then hook up with him behind my back, just because she knew she could.

I was feeling desperate and helpless, angry over the fact it didn't matter how much i tried, he just didn't want me. I remember the screams i made that day, alone in the house, my stomach clenched from how loud i cried. I couldn't breathe, and i just wanted the pain to stop. What was the point of living, when the only boy i wanted, would never want me?

I regained my composure and stood up, i grabbed a knife out of the draw. It was serrated, and i knew it would hurt, but i wanted to feel the pain. A pain that was real, that was justified and not stupid like the pain he was causing me. I did it quickly against my arm, enough to break skin, but didn't draw any blood.

Collapsing to the floor again, i smiled through tears. My biggest fear was pain, and i was sitting there now feeling proud and strong. I over came something i felt i could never do, and it felt good, watching the minor scratch turn red. It turned my mind off what i felt helpless over, almost like a release. After that, i got a stanley knife from my dad's shed, and kept it in my wardrobe to hide. I didn't care if it had gotten a bit rusty. At the end of the day, i just wanted to kill myself. I just didn't have the balls for pain, but from now on, i was going to get deeper and deeper until i was able to finally just do what i'd wanted for so long.

It grabbed his attention though. He knew i was struggling with things going on in my family, and he was too. He held my wrists when i showed him, and he understood why i felt the need to do it... not knowing it was really because of him. By this point i had many scratches all over my arms, and he had taken me out that day 'cause he knew i was battling with a bad case of depression that day. That day was a turning point for us, perhaps he knew how unstable i was to handle most of the **** he was doing to me. But i think it was only because he was getting sick of that girl leading him on and putting him through ****.

A few months later, we had gotten to the point where he was squeezing my arms and screaming at me as i cried. We had now started sleeping together, but i knew he was still with her behind my back. His betrayal and my willingness to just let him use me, was killing me, but i still didn't let him know he was the reason why i cut. I cut myself deeply after a fight i got into with him and my mum. He was shaking me and shouting, "stop cutting yourself! Stop! Please! You're scaring me!"

The look in his eyes as they weld up with tears and fear, the look of pain and worry written across his face. I loved this boy with all of my heart, and cut myself because he didn't love me, but i was now scaring him... It was a new type of pain, a pain i felt because i had now caused him pain. I cried, "please let go, you're squeezing my arms." He let go, and fell back on the bed behind him, still staring at me. I rubbed my wrists, "I'm sorry." I stopped after that, because i loved him so much, it pained me more to see him in pain.

A few weeks after i stopped i was sitting across from him, at his house. He asked why did i cut myself. I rubbed my wrists, looking at them smiling since it was now healing, "it gave me a sense of control." He looked at me like i was crazy, and said, "i used to cut myself too. But i stopped because i didn't want the scars."

A lump in my throat developed... scars? My body will permanently be etched with the pain he caused. It's been 5 years, but the scars are still there, and painfully so are the memories of him.
Tippitoe Tippitoe
22-25, F
Dec 8, 2012