I wish I could just drag a blade across my arm and bleed out. I wish I could just fling myself off an over pass, or drown in a river. I wish I could just kill myself.
It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Months maybe, I don’t really know. They’re all just blending into one. I promised myself, because I have no one else to promise anything to, that I wouldn’t hurt myself. Maybe not stop permanently, I know myself. But for a few months.
It’s a stretch, even I knew that. But, I figured, now I have a reason. I’m pregnant. That’s something, right? To most couples, that’s everything.
But I don’t feel like a couple. I feel like me. And he is Him. Maybe that’s just the way it was always meant to be.
Anyways-
I didn’t remain clean. I’m 4 months clean. Was. I was 4 months clean. Not that it mattered. It never really did. I wasn’t ever really fond of stopping the harm. I never had a reason to. I’m hurting myself, what’s everyone else got to do with it.
Not like anyone really knows or cares anyways.
I came close to the edge plenty of times over the past 4 months. Nights spent curled up in my own arms, soothing myself. Rocking myself back and forth, telling myself I’m strong, and smart and everything no one’s ever told me. Telling myself sweet nothings He’s never told me.
But today didn’t seem worth that effort.
I’m hurting myself. Everyone else does it. Why can’t I?
What’s anyone else got to do with it.
So tonight, the night is crying alongside me. There’s a storm outside my window, the same as the one in my head. It pouring from the sky, the same as the tears from my eyes and the blood from my thighs.
I wish I was doing it for attention. I really do. That way, I could tell someone. I wouldn’t feel so lonely in such a big and busy world.
But, alas, her I lie. Crying in the dark, with blood on my thighs, and a storm outside comforting me.
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