My coming of age wasn't all that pretty. I was heartbroken and on a well worn path, trying to exhaust myself to shut off the pain. It worked at
first, as i slumped in the couch and passed out
every night. I couldn't hurt if all my nerves and thoughts shut off. I met a number of guys, each to
help drive me over the edge. I was fast and reckless with nothing left to use. I abused my body and violated my memories, they weren't sacred anymore. Even though I tried to be heartless, I sobbed myself to sleep. When that didn't work I started cutting. At first it was little scratches that were barely noticeable until I began to crave deeper pain. It reassured me that I was still alive since I could hurt. I bled out lines of loneliness and disappointment and it kept the pain contained within me.