A lot of people say that they cut because it's the only pain they can control.
I cut because it's my only way of getting high.
Drugs are too expensive, especially the good ones. And I already have the necessary tools to slit my wrists.
The slight loss of blood makes me dizzy. I feel like the room is spinning. And then abruptly stopping. And then starting again. And then stopping. And so on a so forth. The whole time with flashing colors. Red. Blue. Orange. Yellow. Pink. Purple.
Eventually the spinning stops completely and the colors die down to dull blacks and grays.
Everything gets darker as if a thick shadow is setting over me. And then it all goes dark, and I've passed out.
About an hour later I wake up to the sounds of my mother drunkenly walking into walls.
I groan and lay back down.
I glance at the floor where I dropped the scissor and consider cutting again.
But I decide it would be too much blood loss for one day.
Too much could kill me.
I'm not suicidal.
Just looking for a good escape.
My phone will ring and I'll let it, knowing on the fourth ring the answering machine will pick up.
I screen my calls now.
It's usually all porn managers and telemarketers trying to sell me enhancement products.
I didn't mean for the videotape to get out.
I didn't even mean for it to happen.
But it did and I had to pay.
I lost my friends.
I lost my boyfriend.
My family was already lost.
My answering machine will pick up. A man's recorded voice will come through.
Hello. I am Rick Stein from 'Make Your Spouse Scream With Pleasure Enterprises.' MYSSWPE would like to thank you for taking our call. If you could please send in a donation we will thank you by sending you a life's supply of free samples. Thank you. Have a nice day.
And then it will repeat itself until I finally get up and unplug the answering machine.
I hear a scream from downstairs and I slump out of my room and down the sun-bleached steps.
I walk now.
There's no more running.
No more rushing.
I have nowhere to go to.
I've been late to school everyday for the past six months.
No one notices.
No one cares.
And the only person that can save me won't even look me in the eye.
After I get down the steps, I see my mother sprawled on the floor by the kitchen table.
She fell off of her chair.
Again.
I sigh and walk back up to my room.
Seeing the razor, I decide twice in a day wouldn't kill me.
But I went too deep.
And too much will kill me.
As I lay on my bed, with death welcoming me, I only think one thought.
Craig.