The blade tingling in the light as I slowly moved my hand back and forth- hesitating to do what was on my mind.
Just the look of It- the sharpness, the shine, the danger and fear it brought upon me- everything.
Others look at it as an object- not even thinking twice- but to me, it's something more.
It represents my life. My alcoholic mother, my troubled relationship, my absent father. It represents pain before it even breaks my skin.
I never was able to explain to myself why I did it. why I resorted to such low standards to help the pain. I guess that it's the only pain I'm capable of controlling, the only pain that I don't have to fight against. It's the result of my own actions- no one else's. it was my decision and something deep inside of me liked that.
I liked knowing that I wasn't being pushed around for this small moment in time. I controlled what happened next, I controlled the next step.
the blade was like my therapist. it relieved my problems and focused only on me and no one else.
my eyes closed tightly as I felt my skin being torn apart like two automatic doors sliding open. The blood leaving my body as my arm tingled with a sense of pain and numbness. I let out a deep breath- a sigh of relief. I felt all the troubles, the emotions, the anger, the exhaustion- just leaving my body.
I felt content. I felt relieved. I felt like even if it was only for a moment- everything would be alright.
However, the feeling only lasts for a moment.
It's short-lived
And now, I'm back to the start