I wrote this just now....and I have to share it with someone....its shit that haunts me still...

the razor slide across my skin, releasing thick, dark blood. it dripped down my body and into a tub of red water. this wasn't the first time i had resorted to such action, and it wouldn't be the last. Emotions of pain, loss, and confusion seemed to pulse through my veins, and I had to let it go. The process was precise and controlled, the results never failed. After washing the blood from my skin and bandaging my wounds, i erased all evidence of my secret addiction. And I stepped back into my own slice of misery, disguised as perfection.

The following afternoon the feeling was back. Like death creeping towards me. I was trapped in a cage with it, fearing this time it would win the battle and I would cease to exist. I'm not sure if there is a worse feeling, than being afraid of yourself. Not sure of your own sanity or what will happen next. I didn't know how to control my own emotions. I shook, I trembled, I rocked myself in an attempt to regain control. My fingernails dug into my arm, slicing into my flesh. I yanked fiercely at my own hair, clumps falling to the floor. Anything to avoid more pain. Anything to keep from making another mistake. I cried silently, but screamed inside. A demonic, blood curdling scream. But, I would again rely on addiction number two. I leapt towards my dresser, like a cheetah towards prey. Frantically tossing out clothes, until I found my escape. I swallowed pills, as quickly as possible, while attempting to make rough estimations so as not to overdose this time. I preceded to consume pills until they were all gone. Then, tried to act nonchalant as I made my way to the medicine cabinet and the secret stash in the garage. Soon the pain was gone. I was now trembling due to the chemicals destroying my body. Like fireworks inside of me; flashes and jolts and hallucinations. But nothing mattered, and that's all that mattered.

Addictions number three and four would take me the next day....but that's another story.

hell ya

quote:

This is sick writing, im loving it, write more!!!

thanks so much lestat!

This is sick writing, im loving it, write more!!!

but ya i never been down that road, me im an idot so i go and just beat the shit out of anyone want to fight.

huh brings back memories...know how you feel to an extent...
thank god im not like that anymore...im freed from that..thx to lestat.

quote:

read the dead emcee scrolls by saul williams, its awesome.

hmmm...yeah maybe i will.

ok
right now its at home, but i can send you some soon.

when ever you feel the need to cut write down your feelings you might be surprised what happens. that's what works great for me

but if you want to read some great poetry read the dead emcee scrolls by saul williams, its awesome.

thanks shorty and GC

...actually gc, in that particular scenerio..i too was referring to dextromethorphan. and please, share your poetry and such...i'd love to hear it.

that's interesting and horrible. i hope that you are getting better.

my story is similar to yours I didn't cut but i used to drink cough medicine. i write very in depth poetry about death and things that you are experiencing.

If you ever want to talk about it, let me know, i'm here for you.

AIM- gcbuffers

wow Hurley, that's horrible... I'm so sorry.

if you want to talk about it ever I'm totally here. i've never done cutting but after the time I spent in the psychward I got to know a lot of cutters.

I hope you are doing better now