So wrong it’s right?

Time to write again? I think so

I’m in a dangerous mood you could say, I feel absolutely nothing, and to deal with it I surround myself with all those memories from the year when everything started.

I close my eyes and see myself with the knife in my hand the very first time I cut myself, we were on vacation and I was so down I didn’t know where to walk or stand. My hands are shaking; I’m scared and begging for it to release the pain. I got the idea from my sister, she used to do it, and well as naïve I was, I tried it, but little did I know that it was a beginning of a sort of addiction.

I take the knife and slowly push it into my skin, I start to cut deeper, and I see the blood. That summer I cut for the very first time, and it was my deepest one.

That kind of memories are what’s going through my head right at this second, why? I honestly don’t know, but it feels so wrong its right. If that even makes sense that is.

I don’t know exactly why I do this; it comes naturally so I don’t really notice it before I’m stuck inside it.

I hear one word, from a song or who knows what, and a memory starts to pop up inside my head, it takes me back to that exact moment.

What really scares me now is that even though I’m not sad or in emotional pain, I still have the urge to just cut myself, deep, hard.  It’s like I’m missing it, but the same time I’m not.  Maybe it’s to feel something, or maybe it’s something else, I have no clue.

It’s like I’m arguing with myself, I get forced to think about how it helped, how it made me feel something.

The deeper you cut, the deeper you hurt those you love, the deeper you cut, it only makes worse.

I know it makes it worse, that it makes me feel ashamed that I gave in to the “voice” inside my head telling me that it’s the only right thing to do, there’s no other option.  Even though there is, but at that time all you see is a problem, and one solution.

Your memories will always be with you, good or bad, so I guess all I can do is just learn how to deal with the bad ones, other than making more of them.

My mind can be a dangerous place.




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