I can not find the words to explain what it’s like, how [beautiful] it feels in that moment to [fall apart] so completely, to be buried so deeply in [darkness], to revel in [self-destruction]…to be playing with your conscience at the edge of [death] and not give a single [fuck]. To sit there and just watch yourself bleed.
"We couldn’t imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to her wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm."
That’s the problem with cutting. Once you start, you can’t stop. It’s addicting, cutting is my drug. It serves its purpose perfectly. Once I cut, I forget about everything that has been wrong. All that is left is my concentration on my cut. I forget about everything but the pain. Pain has become my world.
There are some places where it seems life might be so much simpler, places where the complexities and pain of everyday will just slowly fade.
If I was a bird, would I still have the urge to fly away?