What do you want me to say? It is 1:30 a.m. I am laying in the dark crying. I see my demons and tormentors lingering in the shadows staring at me with their glowing eyes. I do not scream. I do beg for help. I do not hide under my covers. I just wrap myself tighter and cry silently. As to not wake up sleeping family.
When others are in my presence even if not speaking, I appear to be the happiest one there. It is not until they are all gone and the rest of the world is asleep. That my demons appear. I do not wrestle them at night. I do not even fight back. I lay silently allowing them to take me. To beat me and abuse me. As I did that night long ago. Laying on the floor speechless emotionless, and motionless. As one by one my clothing was removed. I feel him whispering in my ear still. His words haunt me. I feel each touch each rub.
During the day, I travel often between the bathroom and my bed. In the bathroom, I turn the fan on run the shower and blare my music to drown out my screams. I lay for hours on the bathroom floor crying. Sitting up every once and a while to wipe my blood off my arm and the floor. With each cut, I feel more connected and alive then I ever have. I feel empowered and strong. I know with my companion my razor that I can accomplish anything. With my razor, always on my I feel safe. I feel comforted and confidant. I feel like I can make it through the fake smiles and laughs without breaking down.
I do not eat. I shower several times a day to wash the filth. During the day, I speak only through texts, instant messaging and emails. I make excuses I say oh I am busy. Oh, my throat is sore. Oh, I didn’t hear you or hear the phone ring. I do not want to talk I do not want to hang out I do not want to be touched I do not want to eat I do not want to move. It is not you I am not upset with you. I just can’t. I feel uncomfortable. I feel shame. I feel like everyone can see him abusing me. That everyone is laughing. I feel guilt. I am sorry I lie to you daily. I am sorry I hide my cuts.
People do not understand why I do what I do. They say to me “you are going to have scars”.  Truth is I want my scars. I am in love with them, for two reasons. 1 I think they are beautiful. 2nd they are my reminders. They remind me why I do not fall in love. Why I trust no one. They remind me of many things. I feel connected with each one. Cutting makes me feel loved. I do not feel alone when I cut. Cutting makes me not afraid. It gives me confidence and a high. Reminds me of a quote that reads “We are all addicted to something that takes the pain away”.
So, I ask you again. What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you how every day and night I spend crying and cutting? That when I am not doing that I am thinking about the next time I get to? Okay yes, I do! Do you want to hear me say that I hurt so deep at the core that the only thing that scares me more than dying is living? Cause yes, I do! Do you want me to tell you all about how I am terrified to be alone but cannot stand being around people? That the only reason I hang on are for the people who broke me in the first place. Cause yes that is true! Do you want to know about how I have to beg myself to spare my life? Convince myself every day that it will get better? That I try to bargain with myself screaming for more time another chance telling myself my life is worth saving? You want me to try to explain to you how somedays the depression is stronger than me so I take pill after pill and end up in the ER? Or how I am afraid of myself? Of what I will do to me? The fear I have that one day the side of me that is so hurt and fed up will do one thing I cannot take back? Well yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes to everything.
You want me to tell you how it is 1:30 am and there is no one I can call or talk to, to soothe the pain? How I want to run into someone’s arms and cry forever. How my anxiety keeps me up and kills me. Destroys my relationships and hope. Well yes, I do wish I had someone. I wish I felt love and comfort from family and friends and not this razor. I wish I could trust. I wish I could allow myself to be loved. To believe I deserve it. But I don’t and that is not my story. So, until the day that I am finally so fed up that I give up and give in. Until the day that my pain is greater than the love I have for the ones I hold on for. This is where I will be. Crying In the dark at 1:30 am tormented and depressed.