I remember it
like it was yesterday--
blood running down
my arms and legs
while I tried my best
to empty myself.
Tears filled my eyes
because I knew
the damage I was causing
not only to myself
but to others.
It was triggered
by a fight with my mother,
and I couldn't
do it anymore.
It had been hundreds of days
since the last relapse,
and I was so determined
to keep that number growing.
But sometimes
you break,
and everything that you built
crumbles.
This was the last time
that a blade ever
touched my skin.
It's still vivid
in my memory,
and I will never forget
unfortunately.
3 years and some change later
I am past it.
It was an addiction for me
as I couldn't go without
the feeling it provided
when I couldn't feel anything at all.
Now,
my scars are faint
and my heart is full.
I am no longer a victim
of my own mind,
for I have taken control of it.
