You never think you'll start.
And then you do, and you think you'll never stop.
Sometimes you just wish everything would stop.
But it doesn't. And it can't. You know that.
So you quit.
A week. A month. Maybe even two.
Yet slowly you feel this pressure,
This constant nagging of unspoken emotion.
Maybe you don't acknowledge it yet, but you will.
And then all of a sudden it all explodes.
You're standing there. Breaking down; again.
Drowning under it all.
So you take your pail, throwing water out of this sinking boat.
A desperate, meaningless attempt to stay.
Blade against skin

11 months
that's all I could do
I tried for so long
I tried just for you

11 months clean
but today we start over
tomorrow is day one
I'm just growing older

11 months
but tonight my thighs sting
I took to them with a blade
as sharp as my ring

11 months
I kept searching for a reason not to
tonight I fought hard
but my blood was long overdue

I sit in the waiting room until I hear my name
“Jennifer!?”
I stand and follow the nurse into the tiny room
As I sit she asks,
“Last name and date of birth”
She takes my blood pressure and temperature
“Do you feel safe at home?”
I answer yes for I live on my own.
I feel safest by myself.
“Any thoughts of suicide or self harm?”
A pause
“No” I quietly mutter outloud
And on she goes
Little does she know what’s going on inside my head
I can just imagine the look on her face if I had spilled out everything
“Well you see, I have extreme anxiety, I overanalyze every situation I’m in, I get panic attacks, I think about cutting at least twice a day, I contemplate suicide on the worst days and am depressed beyond belief
But you’d never be able to tell just by looking at me.
Even she wouldn’t know what to do.
No one would know what to do
Not even I
For I argue with myself every night
Back and forth
Back and forth
I don’t think I have the courage too
Every time I get close I just can’t.
Deep down I know the people who care about me would be devastated
Maybe one day it’ll all go away
And my mind will be clear
Maybe... just maybe

My suicide is something I've dreamed of for a while.
My suicide scares me because I do not know what is after.
My suicide is something I have attempted many times but failed.
My suicide is going to be a relief.
My suicide is selfish.
My suicide is going to be by blade to my wrist.
My suicide is a thought that soothes me.
My suicide is going to be hard for the people around me.
My suicide will eventually be forgotten.
My suicide seems blissful but horrible at the same time.









I hope my suicide is soon.

"You'll be alright"
That's what they say.
"You can do it, just fight!"
I can do this, but hey,
It's been a year, you're late.

Day by day
Night by night
I treasure every moment
Because one day I'll be gone

I don't care what happens to me
As long as I'll be happy,
I'll be happy
As happy as I could be

With you, I could smile and laugh
Even when the whole day was rough
But to say good bye?
No, I can't, I might die

People name you "self harm"
But I call you a friend or a fam
Because in this world of pain
Each day drives me insane

So please take me,
Save me,
Give me a hand,
Because you're the only one who understands, little blade.

Isn't it insane
that mental
and physical
are so intertwined
through pain?

Slice your wrists
when you're numb
you won't feel a thing
If you are truly numb
a cut with a blade
is painless

then slowly
as the euphoria subsides
a dull throbbing begins
it's quiet at first
if you listen too hard
it's not there at all

then as the night goes on
and the high is gone
you feel everything
each slice
each word
and at that moment
all you want
is for the numb to return

Eventually
the wounds begin to heal
they don't hurt like they used to
And you are renewed
a blank canvas
null of emotion
and  you pick up the blade again
for all that you want now is the pain to return
to paint your paper red
and to feel everything
once more;