Gray Wounds
A Phantasmagoria
- Jun 27, 2018
- 575
I am new here. But I've been to several sites already, looking for a place such as this without having to encounter so much drama as "you'll be better" blah blah.
I've been cutting since I was 16 and I am 18 rn. The cuts before are somewhat I call "baby cuts" because of their being not lethal or not deep enough. Then as time elapses before me, the cuts grow deeper and deeper, longer and longer than before to the point where this last couple of months I have almost freed myself. I can remember the pain I feel at the first digging of the blade on my left wrist (which sooner I found out that that place is actually lethal) until the tip disappeared in a half down on my flesh, that's when I started to draw the blade in a slanted manner, pushing deeper as I do so. Then the blood came out of it just as I have expected. Lots of them. But not a lot enough to end me. Then I went to school because our teacher is somehow expecting me to come to her class together with my pushy classmates. There I have felt life leaving me so I started to write a letter to a friend while I sat there on my desk. A little sooner, the calling of death became clear to me, as I lose sense of time. I know I might collapse there. And I can't. So, with the little strength I have in me, I excused my self off of the class and went home (which is damn near our school btw) where I laid myself to rest. But then I woke up, alive, my fingers unable to move the way they must (they're fine now, I can even play the violin again. only that sometimes, they sort of get stuck and stoned, nerve damage I guess).
Cutting isn't my only thing though. Back when I was 17, I used to overdose myself with sleeping pills (costed me a lot of money, which made me realize that the ticket to death is indeed high if I want it to be done fast) several times. 600 g on the first night just to test it then another 600 g the morning after. The pain in my back still resonates in me as if it's still there. The memory of my vision starting to waver, the Earth seems to spin. That night, I had a dream about my friend who tries to help me win over this, she's writing on our shared journal as we speak and laugh at each other. Then later on, she asked me something which I didn't have the courage to bequeath her the answer. She was mad at me and told me that it is better if we stop doing it already.
The morning after the first attempt, I woke up in a dizzy state and made my way to the comfort room where I saw webs everywhere and little spiders too. And behind me, on the wall, I saw a big white spider where all the little ones come out of. Damn, I almost lost it all and scrambled back to bed where I make sure that none of those creatures will come to me. It's only a few weeks after that when I've realized that it's just my hallucination. But what stunned me the most is that when I come to fetch my journal to write about it, I saw scribbling on it, my handwriting, saying things which I couldn't understand. This I have no memory of doing. Really. Perhaps, it is an effect of the overdose.
Then I again drank another 600g and went to school (just to take something very quickly). But unfortunately, I was caught by the flag and was requested to attend on our monday-ly flag ceremony. The worse is yet to come when I again felt the same signs of the medicine I took. Then I collapsed, still conscious though, and I can't speak, I can't move. Humans came toward me to help me and I heard them saying that perhaps I haven't eaten anything. And they are prating about how cold my hands are. I've lost consciousness for some time and then the voices came back the way hallucinatory ones do. I heard some humans say, "It's (my name)! It's her." and "What happened?". The room I was put in wasn't helpful either because they focused the electric fan on me and I was just sated on a bench-like chair. Then I felt a hand pressing my forefingers as if that could help.
When I regained my will to get out of there, I wasted no more time and acted upon it. It's hard to walk and to speak and yet, I still strive to accomplish it. Fast forward I ended up at our cold school clinic where I spent my time sleeping, or perhaps, hallucinating.
Then weeks before this I once again, cut. Because I have been marked as a terrible student, a monster of some sort, who made a teacher cry out of her self realization, been shouted at, humiliated in front of everyone I have deemed important, and most of all, I have been recreated again as a monster everyone should detest. After that incident, everyone just ignored me, looked at me in the most judgmental way they could ever do, and lay their words of hate towards me. All I did is said the truth and asked for peace and understanding for the whole class and yet I was rewarded with betrayal and hatred. Damn fucking humans. I have been labelled in a very wrong way. And what hurts the most is that the humans whom I thought can be there for me and speak up for me at that moment, just gave me a blind eye and pretended to be deaf. The cut I've inflicted isn't that deep though. Because I still have my cat, my cats with me. And I just can't leave them behind.
Now I can feel insanity creeping through me. And I am not saying this as a metaphor but as a fact that I fear that I might lose my sanity. Will I ever last long to see my enemies fall? Will I ever last long to free myself from this world's humanity?
I've been cutting since I was 16 and I am 18 rn. The cuts before are somewhat I call "baby cuts" because of their being not lethal or not deep enough. Then as time elapses before me, the cuts grow deeper and deeper, longer and longer than before to the point where this last couple of months I have almost freed myself. I can remember the pain I feel at the first digging of the blade on my left wrist (which sooner I found out that that place is actually lethal) until the tip disappeared in a half down on my flesh, that's when I started to draw the blade in a slanted manner, pushing deeper as I do so. Then the blood came out of it just as I have expected. Lots of them. But not a lot enough to end me. Then I went to school because our teacher is somehow expecting me to come to her class together with my pushy classmates. There I have felt life leaving me so I started to write a letter to a friend while I sat there on my desk. A little sooner, the calling of death became clear to me, as I lose sense of time. I know I might collapse there. And I can't. So, with the little strength I have in me, I excused my self off of the class and went home (which is damn near our school btw) where I laid myself to rest. But then I woke up, alive, my fingers unable to move the way they must (they're fine now, I can even play the violin again. only that sometimes, they sort of get stuck and stoned, nerve damage I guess).
Cutting isn't my only thing though. Back when I was 17, I used to overdose myself with sleeping pills (costed me a lot of money, which made me realize that the ticket to death is indeed high if I want it to be done fast) several times. 600 g on the first night just to test it then another 600 g the morning after. The pain in my back still resonates in me as if it's still there. The memory of my vision starting to waver, the Earth seems to spin. That night, I had a dream about my friend who tries to help me win over this, she's writing on our shared journal as we speak and laugh at each other. Then later on, she asked me something which I didn't have the courage to bequeath her the answer. She was mad at me and told me that it is better if we stop doing it already.
The morning after the first attempt, I woke up in a dizzy state and made my way to the comfort room where I saw webs everywhere and little spiders too. And behind me, on the wall, I saw a big white spider where all the little ones come out of. Damn, I almost lost it all and scrambled back to bed where I make sure that none of those creatures will come to me. It's only a few weeks after that when I've realized that it's just my hallucination. But what stunned me the most is that when I come to fetch my journal to write about it, I saw scribbling on it, my handwriting, saying things which I couldn't understand. This I have no memory of doing. Really. Perhaps, it is an effect of the overdose.
Then I again drank another 600g and went to school (just to take something very quickly). But unfortunately, I was caught by the flag and was requested to attend on our monday-ly flag ceremony. The worse is yet to come when I again felt the same signs of the medicine I took. Then I collapsed, still conscious though, and I can't speak, I can't move. Humans came toward me to help me and I heard them saying that perhaps I haven't eaten anything. And they are prating about how cold my hands are. I've lost consciousness for some time and then the voices came back the way hallucinatory ones do. I heard some humans say, "It's (my name)! It's her." and "What happened?". The room I was put in wasn't helpful either because they focused the electric fan on me and I was just sated on a bench-like chair. Then I felt a hand pressing my forefingers as if that could help.
When I regained my will to get out of there, I wasted no more time and acted upon it. It's hard to walk and to speak and yet, I still strive to accomplish it. Fast forward I ended up at our cold school clinic where I spent my time sleeping, or perhaps, hallucinating.
Then weeks before this I once again, cut. Because I have been marked as a terrible student, a monster of some sort, who made a teacher cry out of her self realization, been shouted at, humiliated in front of everyone I have deemed important, and most of all, I have been recreated again as a monster everyone should detest. After that incident, everyone just ignored me, looked at me in the most judgmental way they could ever do, and lay their words of hate towards me. All I did is said the truth and asked for peace and understanding for the whole class and yet I was rewarded with betrayal and hatred. Damn fucking humans. I have been labelled in a very wrong way. And what hurts the most is that the humans whom I thought can be there for me and speak up for me at that moment, just gave me a blind eye and pretended to be deaf. The cut I've inflicted isn't that deep though. Because I still have my cat, my cats with me. And I just can't leave them behind.
Now I can feel insanity creeping through me. And I am not saying this as a metaphor but as a fact that I fear that I might lose my sanity. Will I ever last long to see my enemies fall? Will I ever last long to free myself from this world's humanity?
