No matter how sad I feel right now I can’t bring myself to cry.
For others it can only take a sad movie and they’re sobbing.
I don’t cry that easily and when I do I can’t stop.
If you see me crying, you know that it has gotten bad.

I have three coping methods:
1. Writing
2. Drinking
3. Cutting
I have now just completed all three.
I am numb.

Writing is my therapeutic way of letting my emotions out.
Nobody reads my content anyways.
So what is there to lose?
I can write without worry of consequence.

1 shot, 2 shot, 3 shot, 4,
I feel the alcohol burning down my throat,
The familiar feeling I’ve come to know all too well.
I’m trying to make the pain go away.
Trying to make sure I don’t remember anything tomorrow.
It courses through my veins and becomes part of me.
The words are becoming blurry now,
I’m glad I have spell check.

I became overwhelmed with emotion and I cut my wrist.
Almost a year clean and now the number goes back down to zero.
I’m so used to being at the number zero.
I cut to numb the pain I am feeling.
I cut to feel pain, to know I am alive.
To see the blood dripping down my arm,
As proof that my heart is beating.
I’m alive but I am not living.
I feel incomplete without cuts on my wrist
I’ve grown accustomed to them.
I miss them when they are gone.
Welcome back old friends.

To numb the pain I have 3 coping mechanisms.
Usually it is one or the other,
But add them all together and it’s,
1, 2, 3 strikes you’re out.

– Numb // F.C.