deepundergroundpoetry.com
Day 93
Haven't counted in a while.
93 days in total?
That's how long since I've slice my skin.
Since I've dragged the razors down my arms.
I've been watching the old scars heal.
And haven't even thought about how long it's been since I'd make myself bleed.
93 days?
Stopped cutting in Feburary, and not it's May.
Is that really possible?
After all the things that little witch said about me?
After losing my best friend?
After the arguements that I've had with my boyfriend and my mother?
After all of that. . .
After listening to everyone around me say how much sucide is an act of selfishness...
After being forced to drop out of school.
After my best friend blocked me from talking to her.
After all of this...
I'm still alive.
Even after all of that.
Even though I'm still living in a hotel.
Even though I've torn open a few razors, I haven't brought any of them down on my flesh.
"Bad"
My boyfriend's sister Liz says to me slapping my healing scars.
I laugh as she goes into a story about when she was at a concert.
But when I look down at my scars I know that they're not bad, these ones aren't bad anymore--
These are the good kind.
They're the ones that are healing.
And the only way a scar could heal is if I was moving on.
And I was still breathing.
Still living.
Still alive.
That's what I am.
I'm still alive.
93 days in total?
That's how long since I've slice my skin.
Since I've dragged the razors down my arms.
I've been watching the old scars heal.
And haven't even thought about how long it's been since I'd make myself bleed.
93 days?
Stopped cutting in Feburary, and not it's May.
Is that really possible?
After all the things that little witch said about me?
After losing my best friend?
After the arguements that I've had with my boyfriend and my mother?
After all of that. . .
After listening to everyone around me say how much sucide is an act of selfishness...
After being forced to drop out of school.
After my best friend blocked me from talking to her.
After all of this...
I'm still alive.
Even after all of that.
Even though I'm still living in a hotel.
Even though I've torn open a few razors, I haven't brought any of them down on my flesh.
"Bad"
My boyfriend's sister Liz says to me slapping my healing scars.
I laugh as she goes into a story about when she was at a concert.
But when I look down at my scars I know that they're not bad, these ones aren't bad anymore--
These are the good kind.
They're the ones that are healing.
And the only way a scar could heal is if I was moving on.
And I was still breathing.
Still living.
Still alive.
That's what I am.
I'm still alive.
Published 5th May 2012
| Edited 15th Sep 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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7th May 2012 00:35am
Well done you for managing the 93, I have such empathy for you as a repeat cutter myself. It is so hard to break the emotion-releasing habit but at least you are looking at your scars with love and a future. My longest abstinence was 6 months and I am currently on around 40 days. Keep fighting the urge, sweet, keep fighting.
Thank you so much for sharing this wonderful, incicive write.
Love and gratitude D x
Thank you so much for sharing this wonderful, incicive write.
Love and gratitude D x
