day 6

scared

skerd/

adjective

1. fearful; frightened.

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i don’t know what to do.

i’m trapped in my own life. my own skin. my own mind. and there’s no escape.

well, actually, there’s one. but sometimes i find that even i myself am too scared to do it. but then i remember that no one will care.

sometimes i feel numb like this. all the bones in my body don’t seem to matter and the world around me just feels like some transparent nightmare.

i feel detached.

my feet tap across the floor of my apartment. i find myself in the bathroom, bare feet on the cold tile floor and stand in front of the mirror. i want to rip my fingernails through the ugly, pale skin and do anything, anything, so i’d never have to see my skinny little body again.

i find myself biting my cracked lips until my tongue tastes like metal. the circles under my eyes are dark and saggy. my hair is messy and already getting too long. i’m as pale as a snowstorm and as torn up inside as a hurricane, and yet nothing can stop it. i can’t hide in the cellar forever.

my sharp breathing pauses when a certain object comes to my mind. i break my eyes away from the mirror and open a few drawers. my fingers find the sharp piece of medal instantly. i pull in out, slowly, as if it is sacred. in a way, it is.

the metal is cold as it touches my wrist. i can feel its sharp edges, its slick corners. my skin stings, burns. a perfect line, right through, to show that it’s not perfect at all.

funny, isn’t it.

hot. my blood is hot as it breaks through the surface, dripping slowly down my arm. it’s warm and comforting, even though it hurts. i take in a long breath, smiling a little to myself.

in some ways, i feel less scared.

i know it will come back. it always does. but i have to accept that my life is screwed up, that i’m a complete mess, and that no one will be able to help me.

because, after all, it’s too late for anything to change.