Think this is just a Rant/Vent w/ new poem
These scars are mine
These scars prove reality is not a dream
Not to be imagined away
Theses scars tell a story
Of anguish and pain
These scars are my life
The Universe I revolve around
No make-up can cover the pain
These scars are the cries
Of a lonely little girl
These scars are the truth of my days
Of my past
Do you want to know about these,
My Scars?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I need to talk about cutting....I never really have before but I think it might help me right now since lately every time I see a blade, see the glistening metal.....I need the release.
I started cutting when I was 10 years old. It actually began as a dare..."Rachel, I dare you to take this razor blade and cut your name into your leg" I don't know why I did it. I should have known it was a bad idea but here are very few things a dare won't push me to do. If you dare, I do. So, through my blurred vision (blurred from the x we took about an hour before) I carved Rae in to my calf with the razor blade. The release, the rushing adrenaline, the extreme "let go" of reality. It was so wonderful, so like a dream, like I had no pain. I was instantly hooked. I did it for everything after that point. Happy? Cut, to give more of a rush. Sad? Cut, so you're pain is visible on the outside the way you feel it inside. Mad? Cut, to stop the tears, to stop the shit. It was the most pleasing drug I'd ever been addicted to. I did it all the time. Sometimes 30-45 times a day. Wore long sleeves in the summer, bracelets, wrist cuffs, ANYTHING to cover what I was ashamed to show. So ashamed, but I couldn't stop. It made everything go away, for a few seconds. Push the blade down, the world fades away. See the blood, the only that matters in the moment. I stopped drinking when I was 12. Stopped doing drugs, officially, when I was 13.....Shortly after I thought about not cutting anymore. But I couldn't do it yet. I wasn't ready, I needed it all to stop and it wouldn't. Like I was trapped. I had so much going on, I couldn't imagine letting go of the same thing that I thought kept me sane. When Alan happened....and everyone knows that story. I was destroyed, I don't think I've ever been so devastated. Everything he told me was a lie, every story, every comment, every "I love you" was all bull. I didn't have the strength to get up after that fall. I turned to cutting. "Why?" was carved in my arm for a month. Why did he do this? Why didn't he love me? Why wasn't I good enough? Why did he lie? Why did he cheat? I was in such a dark place. I don't think I could ever thank Rob enough, for saving me. Which he's done so much. I climbed high and fell hard and he helped me up. Alli helped a lot too. Where Rob helped me rise again, Alli gave me the reassurance I needed from a woman, which I'm sure only Alli can do for she's the woman I am closest to. She made sure I knew I deserved better because I am a good person. I couldn't ever thank her enough for that either.
However, before the Alan thing happened for the last time, which was January 06. June 20 05 I vowed to stop cutting, and from that day on I didn't. At all, no matter what happened, I found other ways to let our my anger and dismay. But when Alan happened, I just couldn't help it. That was the only time I slipped up. I'm glad I stopped, but sometimes like recently I wish I hadn't. Perhaps I'd be happier if I still did it. Maybe I wouldn't be. I've been cut free for a little over two years.....but I miss it so. Need the release, the escape.....I need so much right now. I think a little TLC would help a little, but if I asked for it I would feel guilty and clingy. No one should have to take care of me. And as long as I have my pride, I'll never ask them too.
I can be Strong.
I can Survive.
I can Live.
These scars prove reality is not a dream
Not to be imagined away
Theses scars tell a story
Of anguish and pain
These scars are my life
The Universe I revolve around
No make-up can cover the pain
These scars are the cries
Of a lonely little girl
These scars are the truth of my days
Of my past
Do you want to know about these,
My Scars?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I need to talk about cutting....I never really have before but I think it might help me right now since lately every time I see a blade, see the glistening metal.....I need the release.
I started cutting when I was 10 years old. It actually began as a dare..."Rachel, I dare you to take this razor blade and cut your name into your leg" I don't know why I did it. I should have known it was a bad idea but here are very few things a dare won't push me to do. If you dare, I do. So, through my blurred vision (blurred from the x we took about an hour before) I carved Rae in to my calf with the razor blade. The release, the rushing adrenaline, the extreme "let go" of reality. It was so wonderful, so like a dream, like I had no pain. I was instantly hooked. I did it for everything after that point. Happy? Cut, to give more of a rush. Sad? Cut, so you're pain is visible on the outside the way you feel it inside. Mad? Cut, to stop the tears, to stop the shit. It was the most pleasing drug I'd ever been addicted to. I did it all the time. Sometimes 30-45 times a day. Wore long sleeves in the summer, bracelets, wrist cuffs, ANYTHING to cover what I was ashamed to show. So ashamed, but I couldn't stop. It made everything go away, for a few seconds. Push the blade down, the world fades away. See the blood, the only that matters in the moment. I stopped drinking when I was 12. Stopped doing drugs, officially, when I was 13.....Shortly after I thought about not cutting anymore. But I couldn't do it yet. I wasn't ready, I needed it all to stop and it wouldn't. Like I was trapped. I had so much going on, I couldn't imagine letting go of the same thing that I thought kept me sane. When Alan happened....and everyone knows that story. I was destroyed, I don't think I've ever been so devastated. Everything he told me was a lie, every story, every comment, every "I love you" was all bull. I didn't have the strength to get up after that fall. I turned to cutting. "Why?" was carved in my arm for a month. Why did he do this? Why didn't he love me? Why wasn't I good enough? Why did he lie? Why did he cheat? I was in such a dark place. I don't think I could ever thank Rob enough, for saving me. Which he's done so much. I climbed high and fell hard and he helped me up. Alli helped a lot too. Where Rob helped me rise again, Alli gave me the reassurance I needed from a woman, which I'm sure only Alli can do for she's the woman I am closest to. She made sure I knew I deserved better because I am a good person. I couldn't ever thank her enough for that either.
However, before the Alan thing happened for the last time, which was January 06. June 20 05 I vowed to stop cutting, and from that day on I didn't. At all, no matter what happened, I found other ways to let our my anger and dismay. But when Alan happened, I just couldn't help it. That was the only time I slipped up. I'm glad I stopped, but sometimes like recently I wish I hadn't. Perhaps I'd be happier if I still did it. Maybe I wouldn't be. I've been cut free for a little over two years.....but I miss it so. Need the release, the escape.....I need so much right now. I think a little TLC would help a little, but if I asked for it I would feel guilty and clingy. No one should have to take care of me. And as long as I have my pride, I'll never ask them too.
I can be Strong.
I can Survive.
I can Live.