Hi, I’m trying something new. And I’m going to keep the intro simple.
Life is hard, and sucks sometimes. Writing has a tendency to make things better.
So this is my new therapy.
My eyes were heavy. I needed sleep. But the thought of closing my eyes made the heavy feeling inside worse. I didn’t want to see the world inside my mind, the darkness and demons.
I don’t know how many times I walked around my flat, out into the yard and back again. I walked until my feet were bruised and sore.
Tears wanted to spill, but my eyes and cheeks stayed dry. The pain walked around with me.
I stood in the doorway, gazing out at the pinpricks of light that studded the black sky. There were only a few, the rest smothered by the city lights. I ached for them.
I gripped the chipped doorframe. My nails were sore, bitten down to the skin.
I didn’t want to be there. Didn’t want to think or feel or breathe. It hurt. Everything hurt. Every heartbeat was like a knife twisting in my chest.
Images flashed before my eyes. The box of pills on the counter. The knives in the drawer. The road outside where occasional cars still streamed past in the night.
Me, closing my eyes. Finding peace. The hurt stopping. An end.
A tidal wave of anger surged up. I grabbed my hair in my hands and pulled as the tears finally fell. My stomach muscles contracted, pulled me inwards. Knees collapsed. I met the ground.
A scream, as raw as the words that had crushed me ripped from my throat. From my belly. From my heart.
It died into a moan, punctuated by sobs and gasps.
None of this was fair. I didn’t want this any more. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take it.
I pushed myself up off the ground and into the kitchen.
The knives. The pills. So close. So tempting.
I pulled the drawer open, picked up the first coloured handle I saw through blurred eyes. A strange kind of calm came over me.
This was the way out. The way to end the pain. The way to silence her voice forever.
I sat on the cold floor, and looked at the silvery metal in the light of the moon. Salvation.
It felt cool against my arm, creating prickles on the skin. I bit my bottom lip as more tears fell down my cheeks, a final cry of grief for all that could have been. .
A little pressure was all it took. Little beads of red appeared. Tiny droplets at first, then a steady stream. It was a release. My heart beat harder, faster, breath echoing in and out. My vision blurred, and my eyelids threatened to close.
The pool of red spread out further, ruining my pale sheets. It didn’t matter though. Nothing mattered anymore.
My eyes closed on red, on the thudding of my heart competing with the echoing of my breath, on a single thought.
But I wasn’t.
I look at my transparent hands and regret the knife I once wielded. I now watch life. Never again will I live it.