|| Ze Cast || Funniest / Best Blogs on the web || My Writings ||

Best viewed with Mozilla Firefox/Google Chrome

Please don't feel as though you have to follow me in return of my following your blog, I'd rather you only do so out of genuine interest. C:

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

"But, you see, I'd kick the bucket

sixty times before I'd kick the habit."

I was all set. I had my blog post planned out, title and everything. "Back in the game". And the body would simply be a picture. The cleaned up post-shot, not the one taken as blood streamed, unchecked. Startlingly, vibrantly red, forming lines that merged into one another and flowed, something unspeakably, inexplicably beautiful and peaceful in its deliberate, premeditated violence.

I had the area in mind. It would be simple and clean, just one. Or option two; a crazy release, but carefully controlled. But preferably the first option, just one cut, down the back of my leg. Inconspicuous. Excuse - Scraped against a tree.

I don't know what triggered it today. It was worse for that, and to be honest, it holds me in its grip as I write.

The other day, in Biology, I got cravings. But that was understandable, you know? We were doing a practical that involved slicing up liver of some animal. I was the one cutting it up. The scalpel blade and leftover headache from the morning, as well as feelings of dizziness, lead to my high susceptibility to cravings. Holding that blade, imagining it all clearly. I had to leave for a few minutes to clear my head.

Here, there was nothing. No trigger. Today is my mum's birthday and all that caused me to determine is to make dead sure she didn't find out. That wasn't enough to stop me. Haven't I caused her enough pain?

It was a wild tumble of emotions; missing my best friends, fond remembrances of times with them, upset at how much other people's opinions influenced my actions, at how my "brother (who isn't by blood but we count each other as siblings" obviously disapproves of my being with Chris; terrified that Chris will decide to join the army full time within a few weeks, and not next year, and if full time, would be gone for 18 months; and missing everyone I hadn't spent much time with lately. Tired and unable to stand against the turbulence of all this, I just wanted to do it. I half tried to believe "just once", just one more; because the last time wasn't much of a send off, although the depth of the scar would beg to differ. It would be nice to do it properly, end that part of my life well.

It was a lie, I knew that. If I did it "this once", it would be my chance to return to it. And I had been nine months and two days (longer than "pregnant time"). At the time though, it didn't matter much.

The faster we're falling,
We're stopping and stalling.
We're running in circles again...
Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm trying to keep,
Up above in my head, instead of going under."

I'm okay and I can make this, but only if I want. And sometimes I just want to cut.


sometimes it wouldn't feel like giving in. It would feel like satisfaction. Like what I want.

"And you might say it's self-indulgent
And you might say it's self-destructive
But, you see, it's more productive
Than if i were to be happy"

It's a lie, I know. It's the need and the addiction clothed in something else, disguised as something better. Not done to stop the other pain, to release. But underneath the reasons are still there, still the same.

I'm clinging to this;

"I am not a pretty picture.
I am not a project or something for you to fix. I am a beautiful mistake, I am a mess, I am tragedy I am fairytales. I am a story, as are you, and with every line across my wrist I was screaming and with every tear that I shed I am praying for me and you and "them" and us. We are not alone we are in this together and I am on my face tonight. And darkness screams behind the door, it is begging, fighting to get in.
And I will not let it in, I will not sucuumb to your sweetness. I will not be betrayed by the kiss of a blade by the liquid that gives to take and I, I will not swallow those lies that sit on my plate. Brake. Shatter. Collide and fall.
Pretty poison. I used to think I should come with a warning lable, I thought I destroyed everything that I touched and now, now I see, now I know it was not me it was the Hole it was the monster that came in and wrecked everything I know...and love...and love and hope would not let me go. And love and hope grew arms to reach me when I was running and wrap me snug in a hug that my heart had longed for oh so long. And love and hope in stars and hearts on my back on my arms and in my heart as mine, for me to give to you and that is what the pain was for. And that was worth it all, and more.

but I'm inclined to let go and jump back into the abyss. And do so gladly. Not falling, screaming, hating myself for this weak lapse. But with delight, like meeting an old friend again after a long time apart.

Bring me to my senses.


  1. =(
    sorry I wasn't around today
    but I really don't know how much more I could do
    Tell me how and I will be so there.

    Love you xx

  2. It's odd, that as I sit here reading this there are parts that I relate too (amongst many parts that I don't).

    But the "planning" of it. It's hitting me hard.
    You managed to step away from your plan.
    That is something.

    And now I must stop myself from saying too much.
    Sorry, but that is why this comment doesn't have all that much in it.