i walk around
like i'm ok
and sometimes i forget

sometimes i almost believe
that i'm ok

and then i look down
and i see the scars
the marks of a cutter

i'm reminded
and i know

i'll never really be alright

I Want To Give Up

i want to give up
run away from the pain
get away from this place
find a hole,
where i can curl up,
and eventually die.

i don't need happiness,
i've lived without it this long.

i just need to forget,
everyone and everything.

i don't need anyone's help.
everyone's tried helping,
but look what it brought me,
nothing.

i just wanna give up.

Dare 2 Dig Deeper

- i sat on the lid of the toilet and began to cut through my skin.
i could never resist responding with my frantic self-abuse. as i inflicted pain onto my skin, i began to feel relief flood through me. the physical pain shut out the emotional pain. i tried to hang onto that, but i knew it wouldn't last long enough.
even as i began to clean the wounds, the rush of complex thoughts made me feel both guilty and comforted, alone in my pain, yet in control of unexpressed emotions. a freak with a secret. next time it will take even more pain to find that brief release.
- "cutting is the replacement for the absent language."
- "You have so much pain inside yourself that you try to hurt yourself on the outside because you want help." --Princess Diana
- others feel 'dead' and turn to SI to be reminded that they're still alive
- "self-injurers are often bright, talented, creative achievers- perfectionists who push themselves beyond all human bounds, people-pleasers who cover their pain with a happy face." -- Marilee Strong
- there are also self-abusers who have come to rely upon no one else and use SI as an emotional release
- the self-injurer may not even be aware of what she is doing to herself, and as for reasons, these most likely elude her as well
- despite the way it may look, cutting is usually not a failed suicide attempt
- the progressive, addictive nature of this disorder can be life threatening. the more desperate a cutter becomes, the higher risk of accidental suicide
- they've lost sight of the truth somewhere along the line. --when you construct your world view on a series of misunderstandings, its like building a skyscraper with the foundation out of plumb. a fractional misalignment at the bottom becomes a whopping divergence from true by the time you get to the top.
- i'm caught in a web of deception whose strands have been created by myself and others. i can usually recall, and grossly distort any critisism i've ever heard.
- thoughts come in gradually at first, then pick up momentum more and more quickly, snowballing into a crushing avalanche of fault finding remarks. i don't know the truth, or how to use it to fight back. that overwhelming misbelief about who i've 'heard' i am, has become the cracked foundation upon which i base my reality. frustration and feelings of helplessness can drive me to the edge in a matter of moments.
- i started cutting to silence the clashing voices that buzzed like static, drowning out the truth i longed for.. prayed for.. searched for.
- over time i've become more separated from my feelings and have employed a clerk of sorts, to file my life into neat folders and cabinets..
- i've begun to notice that i can't feel, even when i want to
- i've resumed cutting in desperation, to remind myself that i'm still alive. the blood seems to be the only evidence that i'm not dead yet.
- when you haven't felt in years- and your memories of feelings are so intensely distorted- the thought of being hit with such a tidal wave of emotion is enough to drive out all hope of normalcy.
- i'm afraid it will take a great deal of time to recover and i know there will be temptations and lapses on the road to healing..

i watch the world through tear-filled eyes
and wonder up at stormy skies
i dream about the awful things
tomorrow will unfortunately bring
i keep my secret plans and prayers
tucked far away, where no one cares
and way beyond horizons far
comes another drink, from the bar
i journey to new worlds unmet
with terrors undiscovered yet
nightmares take me on horrific rides
with satan himself, as my guide
i close my eyes, and try to sleep
but instead, terrified, i weep
id stop it if i only could
but come back to haunt me, it surely would