By. Lauren

My family has never seemed to get themselves weaned.
Not from the drugs.
Not from the alcohol.
Not from the smoking.
Not from the abuse.
Not even from the bleeding.
Year after year another resolution.
I will change they always seem to say.
Relapse after relapse they always seem to peruse.
We have never been weaned.
Learning our habits from one another not knowing that's what we should not do.
It's become our DNA.
Our flesh and blood.
Self-harm took me over too.
2 years of cutting watching the pain watching my blood go down the drain.
Yet another one not able to be weaned so soon.
Crying in the bathroom full of fears full of tremors full of hopelessness.
Yet another lost hope.
Life was useless to me
A dream I would never be able to see.
I couldn't be weaned.
Each night I tried to stop.
Just breathe and look at the ceiling.
Remaining yet another lost cause.
I never knew how small my room was until I was enclosed in the space that I couldn't escape.
I never knew how large my mind was until I was lost in all of its emptiness.
I couldn't be weaned.
Night after night memorizing my scars adding on to my collection.
It took 3 years without help to finally get here.
I just hope I can stay.
Hope I can change my DNA.
No more losing blood.
No more watching others struggle.
We all will be weaned.
Weaned of the drugs.
Of the alcohol.
Of the smoking.
Of the abuse.
And even the bleeding.