February 15th 2022
Nothing calms me down quite like dragging a blade across my own flesh.
When I had first stopped cutting, I started working on a tattoo sleeve on my left arm to cover most of the scars. They were still there, and still visible, but you had to look really closely to see them.
Now, so I don’t mess up the beautiful purple wildflowers, complete with vines and a few bees amongst them, I cut my thighs.
The pain is grounding, anchoring me into a reality that I can deal with.
Physical pain is controllable; emotional pain sends me in a tailspin that I worry I’ll never find my way out of.
He makes me feel out of control. My thoughts aren’t my own anymore. He’s in my head, taking over it. I want nothing more than to be free, but I feel trapped.
Two cuts, not deep enough to be concerned about, just enough to where I don’t feel lost and confused anymore. I watch, fascinated, as the blood drips down my legs onto the tile of my bathroom floor. Riley whines at the door. He always wants in; he always wants to take care of me.
I sat in silence for a moment, the pain keeping my head clear, taking away any lingering worry from last night. It was the only thing I could do to help myself right now.