Categories > Original > Drama2 Reviews
"I fell in love with this nightmare three years ago. I was naïve and immature, and constantly depressed. I couldn’t sleep, so I picked up a knife and dug it into my arm."
Honestly, I don’t get it. Couldn’t she credit me with a little more creativity? If what I wanted was attention, I could do heaps of other things. I’d dress slutty, join a band or run for the Student Rep council. I’d disrupt class or take up soccer.
I wouldn’t disfigure myself like this for anyone’s attention.
There’s no glamour in what I do. It’s ugly and messy and completely fucked-up. I try to keep it secret from everybody, but there comes a point where there’s just no hiding. I feel dirty, and I love it. I love every minute of it, because it’s my choice. I’m good friends with this razor – I may have other friends, but none of them are as cute and shiny. I tell Robyn she’s my best friend, but I know she comes second to my beautiful shiny, silver friend. And she’s starting to know it, too.
I don’t always love it as much as I do right now. I know when I wake up tomorrow morning I’ll wish bitterly that I’d never met this razor in my life. I know, and I’m choosing to do it anyway. Because I want to. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it’s beautiful and romantic. It’s like watching Titanic or something, the drama and romantic ideals keep me in it. I know that no guy is ever going to want to fuck me, because I’m making myself so ugly under my clothes. It doesn’t matter, though.
I fell in love with this nightmare three years ago. I was naïve and immature, and constantly depressed. I couldn’t sleep, so I picked up a knife and dug it into my arm. It didn’t even break the skin. Of course, it got worse from there. As soon as I’m done, I’ll have to take myself to ER again. I always seem to need stitches these days. Honestly, I don’t know why they don’t just keep me there; I’m a danger to myself. But they always let me out.
I don’t feel sorry for myself at all. I did once. I thought it was unfair and I wanted it so badly to stop. Then I realised it was my own fault because I could seek treatment if I wanted to. I just don’t want to.
One day, I will. I’ll go down to ER and ask them politely if they could introduce me to a therapist. I’ll go to in-patients and learn to handle myself a bit better and stop feeling so self-destructive all the time. I’ll open up about what I’m doing to myself and find other people who are like me, who can help. One day everything’s going to be alright.
But tonight, I have an appointment with a dear friend of mine.