recovery

JUST SO Y'ALL KNOW THE FIRST "YOU" IS TWORDS SOMEONE ELSE THAN THE PERSON WHO HELPED ME

You checked my wrist, left my thighs hidden.

Saw my smile, and misplaced the thought that I might be depressed.

You went to bed early and never saw me struggle late into the night.

My body shaking, my thigh bloody.

Choking on sobs, trying to stay quiet.

I try so hard to hide this from you, all the while wishing you knew.

My blood stains my sheets, scars stain my body.

I broke down one night.

I told you everything, I showed you my thigh.

My forced smile now gone.

You tried to help me, I stopped cutting for two weeks..

Two weeks.

Then I started cutting again.

You didn't notice it.

Missed all the signs.

I didn't try to hide it anymore, my blades in obvious places, back to long pants.

Skipped meals, sleeping till noon.

Forced smile, dried eyes.

No tears, just blood.

I knew you didn't like my scars, so I became ashamed of them too.

Small cuts, deep cuts, long cuts.

Crisscrossed, and mangled.

My body never will be the same.

This went on for months.

Months.

One cut.

Two cut.

Three and four.

Fake smile, less sleep.

Five.

Six.

What's one more?

Seven. Eight.

I don't want to stop now.

Nine, that was deeper than I planned.

Ten, eleven, twelve.

Belt around my neck, no where to hang myself.

Another sleepless night.

Lay in my bed till noon.

Make everyone mad at me.

Thirteen, fourteen.

Fifteen... sixteen...

that's a lot of blood.

Seventeen.

One, two, three sleepless nights.

I really am tired.

My thigh sure does sting right now.

My wrist has a few small cuts on it.

I think I blacked out last night.

Oh? now that I am addicted to my own pain you want me to stop?

I can't stop now.

It's too late now.

My pain is what keeps me alive.

or.. at least I thought it did.

I slowly stopped with your help.

Cutting.. stopped being a daily thing..

nightly, every other day, three days clean, I relapsed.. I'm sorry.

Four days clean, a week!

Two days... damn this is hard.

Eight days, ten.

Two weeks.

Relapse.

5 days.

One week.

Relapse.

Two weeks.

Three weeks!

Are you proud of me?

One month...

I miss my blood.

I miss the pain.

I am a bit short tempered right now.

One week, another relapse.

One moth, two.

I really am getting better now.

Thank you for helping me..

I know it was never easy.

I wasn't always nice to you during this.. trying time of mine.

I'm not fully recovered yet.

But I am four months clean, it feels like an eternity.

I miss it, my scars are fading and that really does scare me to be honest.

I am getting better.

I am better.

I am strong.

I am strong because of my past, I am strong because of you.

I am alive because of you.

Author's Note

please send review! thanks for read!