I’ve got these three cuts on my palm self-inflicted because of the void in my chest. I could have done more and much worse, perhaps. But seeing the blood, made me shake and cry. No, I’m not squeamish. (I’ve dissected toads, frogs and cats for fuck’s sakes!) Crying and muttering, What have I done? It wasn’t certainly the first time. There’s a dark circular scar near my wrist which I had created using my key. Yet, this one was different.

I know I’m the only one who can help me. Well, at least that’s what the voices say. I know I’m the only one. But I don’t know how to help myself or if I can even help myself. To tell you the truth, I don’t see things getting any better. Time has been coming and going faster than I can handle. But the days and nights seem longer. Sometimes, I just wish that time could fast forward to when everything is better. To be honest, I feel extremely hopeless. I’m too pitiful and too pathetic. Just hopeless. So hopeless that I have these cuts in an attempt to end it all. It’s lonelier and sadder now. There’s nothing that I want more than to just completely leave.


3 thoughts on “Cuts

  1. Are you at the point where you can almost feel the logic of letting yourself die and giving up to the void? Sometimes, even in the last year, I’ve felt that feeling. There’s a pain inside me that’s been growing with every year, and it wants to express itself. But the pain is too much for the world. It’s too violent and dangerous. So the pain decides to turn inward and I bruise myself and scratch my arms and hit my thighs. I do jiu jitsu now, a grappling martial art. My wife thought it would be healthy for me, and I think it is. But honestly, I feel this weird release when I lose a match by a choke. This is probably an odd comment, but I feel for those who self-inflict.


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