A sharp, stinging sensation disseminates as I run a blade across my forearm. Drops of blood infuse with tears and burn within the wounds...
There is a lot I have dreamt of doing, but my choices for short-term gratification have somewhat impeded me from reaching those goals. And every so often I am reminded of my own stature. It hits like a brick to the face, my mistakes will always prevent me from reaching my goal. Yes, I get it I fucked up and truthfully I don’t know what hurts more … not getting another chance or knowing you don’t deserve another chance. I can’t look in the mirror without a sense of disgust. I see in there someone who gave up all he was worth for the likings of pennies. I see someone whose moral compass was calibrated so irately wrong … he didn’t need the devil on his shoulder to entice him. He could do that on his own.
Every so often I’m reminded that for all my achievements I’ll always be a minute fleck. There isn’t much I can do to change the past, I can only look forward. But in doing so I can’t seem to grasp on to one thing, my mind. I’m usually one to push through and always try to defy odds… but this is one fight that I’m probably not going to see the end of. I see that no matter how hard I work i’m reminded of my shortcomings. It will always hinder me. I just want to let the pressure out, everything in my mind, everything in my heart, everything in my soul. I just want to let them all out, try to absolve myself for my sins in my own blood. Truthfully I enjoy the pain that comes with slicing my flesh open with a razor. I’ve always found myself in a conundrum, do I want the painful box cutter with a dull blade or the deep semi-painless cut from a new razor blade? As morbid as this may sound, hear me out.
Watching the blood seep out of my skin and flow down my body into a pool in the sink eases a lot of stress. It is like watching the pressure built up inside physically come out and leave my body. If I were to try attempting suicide again I most definitely should consider bleeding out as one alternative.
I understand that “I’m quitting” but when have I ever stopped fighting?
If you felt in your heart everyday that you physically were inferior to everyone and everything around you … if you felt that every. damn. day … what would you do?
Being someone who feeds off social interaction, being the most inferior does not bode well with me. In fact it takes a huge toll on me. I get that I should be trying to fight through, but I just need some way to make it all go away. Maybe one day, I can disappear amongst the world, reinvent myself anew in a place with no connection to my past.