I did it again.
I picked up the blade and played that game of tic tac toe.
I stained my fingers with the ****** ink.
Dragging the blade back and forth till I felt drunk on the cuts.
Till I felt numb from the pain.
The mental pain I'm drowning in.
The pain caused from missing a boy who no longer exists.
Missing a girl who died with her child.
Missing the family that left when her mother walked out the door.
The pain caused from the anxiety left on me.
The anxiety of never knowing who to talk to or where I belong.
If I still have people in my life to lean on.
However that's probably partially my fault.
I the girl who never stops speaking...
No longer even tries to speak to those I care for.
I can't.
My blade has become my bestfriend tonight.
And I don't think any of them would understand.
So here I sit.
Laying on the floor of my closet.
An ace bandage wrapped around my thigh.
Hiding my newest game of tic tac toe.
As I write you this poem.