though I'm clean I cant help but miss it
the little red drops
the way I was in control of it
the stinging
the pain
its been 6 months and its all I think about
its messed up really
its something that only some will understand
even people who do it don't always get it
we just know we do it for something
I miss it
the understanding that in that very moment I'm in control of my own pain
that I'm in control and can be whenever I need to
that it doesnt all have to be mental
that I can release everything through I tiny little slit in my skin
but I cant do it again
cant break the promises
cant go back.
some days I really wish I could though.

when I finally told her
y'know how you really were
she thought you were so good
she thought you'd never even be disrespectful.
she couldn't have been more wrong
and I guess I got warned to stay away
so in a way maybe I brought it up on myself
but I would've never guessed
I would've never thought you were so manipulative
I would've never thought you to be like that
you seemed so sweet
I often tell myself you didn't know it was wrong
but you had to right?
you had to know begging until you get a "fine if you stop asking" isn't okay right?
maybe that's why you did it
maybe you didn't care
when I told her
she almost cried.
we were in a park walking
trauma dumping as best friends do
she started profusely apologizing
she didn't like you but she didn't hate you when we were together
she didn't know.
she didn't know all the hushed fights or manipulative things you'd say
she had no idea all the nights at your house the things you'd guilt me into
she didn't know the weeks of being ignored
no one did.

somewhere along the lines my favorite colors got blurred.
it was forever blue until it was silver
silver didn't last long I liked porcelain more
that one didn't last long either I learned to love red.
red always went away I liked white to though.
but only the kind of silver you can write with on the porcelain.
the silver that turns the porcelain red and cuts it.
the silver that tears you apart
leaves you with little white scars
so I guess I like white to now?
wow that red didn't last long but it sure pains me to see it go.
the silver is pretty though I still like it but
it  still looks even prettier pressed on the porcelain skin of my arm or thigh in the winter time
so I guess I still like porcelain to?
but then the skin rips under the silver
it turns red and I remember how much I liked red.
a it fades to white I think about my colors and why I like them.
from blue to silver to skin color to red to white.

Why do we do it?
Why do we cut ourselves?
Why do we burn ourselves?
Why would anyone ever harm themselves on purpose?
Why?
Is it to feel some kind of physical pain to silence the pain in our heads,
Or is it to feel like our mental pain is valid too?
Is it worth it for only a few seconds of relief?
Is it worth the struggles of addiction and hiding it from everyone?
Is it worth it to have your showers stinging after?
Why do we start to crave the pain that comes from SH?
Maybe everyone has their own reasonings but its all the same,
It's all hurting yourself to feel something.
Now all you crave is that release no matter how it's done, it's all you want.
Almost like a drug addict you're addicted to the pain the release.
Then it's got you, you're stuck and you go back to the question.
Why?
Why did I ever start this sick cycle?
Why do I keep going?
Why can't I stop now?
Why is it so addicting?
But no matter how much you question it you simply can never fully quit,
You simply can never do something wrong without it being your first thought anymore.
And here we are back to the question.
Why?

At 7 I wanted to be with my best friend and family everyday
At 8 I dreamed of doing hair and makeup really anything girly.
At 9 all I wanted was a break from my family and yelling
At 10 all I wanted was someone to show they truly cared
At 11 all I wanted was to have a real friend and to live somewhere more then 4 years.
At 12 all I wanted was to be able to say no without feeling bad.
At 13 all I wanted was to eat without the guilt following it
At 14 I simply wanted a hug.
At 15 I dream to wrestle but simply want my anxiety to leave.
At 16 I pray for less anxiety for things to go well.

I want to be happy
I really try
but my brain has a chemical imbalance
something that can never be truly fixed
I'm chemically ill
this illness isn't the kind that makes you throw up or be congested
this illness makes you sleep and lose your appetite
it makes you stay in bed with nothing to do
it makes you weak and tired and achy from staying in bed constantly.
when I am happy it's almost uncomfortable
its as if happiness just isn't for me
I find comfort in this illness in knowing that's how I'll be forever
I find comfort in the fact that it will never change.