| Deshae's Story |
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| My Story: Hands It started a few years ago- the cutting. It relieves my stress and calms my fears. I never talk about these feelings with anyone. Why would I? What would they say? Why would they care? Somehow, even though I'm suffering, I can't feel it. I want to feel the pain outside that I can't explain or lines that stretch all over my legs, lines that hide under long t-shirts, lines that liberate the caged ghosts screaming inside me. The needle is like a tool, a wrench used to tightan the screws of my feelings and keeps them in place so that I don't have to cry in public or talk about my pain or be alone. With every red beaded line, I sigh in a calm relief. I don't cry when I'm hurt or upset. Instead, I cut. The complex emotions leak from my flesh in the form of blood, instead from my eyes in the form of tears. Anytime I feel empty or stressed or confused, anytime I look in the mirror- hating myself and my cursed reflection, I cut. Even if I can't figure out a math problem in school, I simply get a pass to the restroom and cut. Anytime I get a rude remark, or even if I have a bad hair day, I cut. I cut just to bleed, to know that I'm still breathing, to feel my heart race and my nerves stir. My secret is the only thing that keeps me safe. I'm addicted to this pain that doesn't hurt, but feels nice. When I cut the world seems to blur and slow down, and the cuts leave me calm and complete. I hide my scars under t-shirts and pants. Sometimes I let them show, a quiet scream for help. If anyone asked, I would say "Dang cat!" Cutting is a release, and exhale, a breif hope that I can make it hurt enough to release the pain, so I can smile again. I like to make myself bleed, and then watch myself heal. I like to have some control of my wounds in order to see the pain I feel inside. My life may seem great even to the ones closest to me, but it's not. I got caught cutting once and all that was said was "That is so stupid!" Thank you so much for letting me know that I'm a screw up, and now they are telling me the only thing I hold that is truly mine, the only way I stay alive is stupid so why even try. No one understands. |