One Two Three
At night in the dark she tries to make her thoughts into clouds, murky and undefined, to keep them from being so clear, so accusing. When she cuts that's how it is. It's more than the pain, bringing tears to her eyes and making her want to cry out, it clouds everything in her mind. It's not just cutting through her skin, it's cutting through everything. But she's not doing that any more. She's going to be a good girl.
She lays in bed alone, no ones arms protectively around her, no ones eyes looking back into hers, and tries to remember to breathe. Counting to three, fast and then progressively slower, to keep herself from hyperventilating. One two three. One two three like steps to a dance she barely remembers. She runs her hands along one arm and then the other and tries to keep her fingernails from digging into scabs out of memory. One two three. Don't do that. Good girl Jude. One two three. She dances in her room, alone, in the dark, in her mind.
She lays in bed alone, no ones arms protectively around her, no ones eyes looking back into hers, and tries to remember to breathe. Counting to three, fast and then progressively slower, to keep herself from hyperventilating. One two three. One two three like steps to a dance she barely remembers. She runs her hands along one arm and then the other and tries to keep her fingernails from digging into scabs out of memory. One two three. Don't do that. Good girl Jude. One two three. She dances in her room, alone, in the dark, in her mind.