i don't really remember what i said as i left his office. i tossed some farewell over my shoulder as i left, closing the door behind me. did he notice how much i was shaking? i walked unsteadily to my car, my head swirling.

i drove myself home in a stupor - i don't remember the trip but somehow i got home to a mercifully empty house. i hung up my keys and took a few steps into the kitchen and froze. i just stood there, completely still, overcome by the roar in my head. After a few minutes i sat down cross legged in that same spot, and, hugging myself with my arms began to cry, rocking slightly back and forth. That awful, familiar ache in my chest pulsed harder and harder - my heart itself feels like it's dying, squeezing itself with anguish. Pain fills my chest - an awful, despairing, lonely, aching pain that grows with each breath and every sob. i squeeze my head in between my hands, my fingers gripped like a vise inside my hair - maybe if i squeeze hard enough the dark clouds will subside, perhaps the roar will go away. i know better, of course. it never goes away...

my thoughts flash back to an earlier discussion of control and i hiccup a sort of laugh. i can control this despair no more that i can control being stabbed in my sleep. The murderer lies within but spreads itself like a tumor, twisting itself into the crevices of my soul.

The pain doesn't dtop but continues to throb and the roar is getting louder and the thoughts come - "i can't stand this i can't i can't i can't stop it stop it stop it please stop it" praying to no one in particular "please make it stop i'll do anything i swear please i can't take it i can't i can't i can't"

i crawl into my room and open the door where i keep the straight razors. i have one from before but i pull out a new one - i don't want any dullness, i need it to be as sharp as possible. pulling up my right pant leg my eyes rest on a rare untouched patch of skin on my outer thigh. without a word or thought i begin to unzip the skin under the razor. the lines turn red quickly and after the first bubbles of red the sobbing starts to slow. The breathing that i had tried so desperately to control starts to ease up. The tears continue and a different emotion begins to grow.

This is unmistakeably anger. HATE. hatred for myself, hate for absolutely every molecule. i want to kill, to hurt, to punish. i use the razor against my skin with abandon, without regard to placement or depth, just again and again and again with the haste of a slasher flick. and each time i bring down the blade i feel more and more spite for this object - this leg, this skin, this body - it is guilty, guilty of living, guilty of feeling, guilty of being a part of me and therefore must be subjected to this assault.

i don't know how long i went, but at some point i stopped and let the blood flow. i didn't try to stop it, i just watched.

At some point my head began to clear and reality set in - time to clean, to bandage, to put me back together. Only, like the shattered egg i'm not really back together - there are pieces missing and all the cracks still show. but for now it is enough and no one is ever the wiser. i greet t and his mom at the door with a big smile and spend the rest of the evening silently flinching as my pants graze my leg. i'm sure to climb into bed that night before t comes and hug him tightly before i roll over, not wanting him to see that my eyes are welling up. i love him so much and i have many blessings in my life. why won't this pain go away? why must i do battle with these demons and lose every time? why won't it stop? the voices in my head sing of escape, of getting out, of a sweet release that is only a pill bottle or a slashed wrist away, of an existence (if any) without this constant ache in the seat of my soul.

i squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shut them off, trying not to yearn, trying not to fall in love with their commands and at some point a couple hours later am able to drift off to a dreamless sleep...

for those who made it through all that, thanks.

oh and ps- tomorrow's my birthday. i'm 28.

starving + bleeding