The Scars Still Linger
It`s been a few years now since I last self injured. I still wear the marks it left. The scars are still there reminding me of what I did to myself. All the time I dragged the razor or scissors or a jagged piece of broken glass across my arm or the times I used cigarette lighters to burn myself. Sometimes I can`t believe what I`ve done to myself and I am disgusted by what I see when I look at my scars. Other times I miss the relief it used to bring. That moment when I could breathe again. I still fight the urge when things get bad again. But then I remember the price I payed for those little moments of peace. Or what I thought was peace or relief. I`m sad to say I can`t remember the last time I felt peace. My mind is always racing. That`s probably why I need medication just to sleep.
I used to think of the marks as battle scars. Now I think they are just ugly and they remind me of what led to me doing that to myself. The awful depression. That awful depression still lives within me. I feel it always with me. If I find myself having a good moment there is always something that taps me on the shoulder and reminds me that is still there with me. I hate it. I hate it so much. It has stolen so much from me. I often wonder what my life would be like without it. I feel so useless and worthless. I hate myself.
Oh my god. it's Robby! likes this.
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