Cutter's Temptation

My arm screams for pain
My eyes need to see the blood
My body needs to feel the relief
Glancing over at my hiding place every two seconds.
It's begging to be dragged across my pale scared arm.
No, I tell myself.
You can’t do this.
You promised you would quit.
But...
I can’t not do this.
I feel as if I'm being drawn to the blade.
Please somebody help me.
Before I do the damage that my mind aches for.
The crimson lines that used to be, oh so familiar.
Me and him used to be great friends.
I used to visit him often.
Till I was caught.
Please just let me, just this once.
I promise I will never do it again.
Please Lexi, don’t give in.
Just do it.
No don’t.
One time won't affect you, you can quit when things are less hetic.
You know that's not true. Things aren't even hetic.
Just do it.
No.
The voices in my mind fight.
Picking up the blade.
I already feel less numb.
Fine.
You won.
Say hello to the old Lexi.
Because she was much better off cutting, then suffering in silence.
I am a cutter.
Yet again...

[Poem I found on the internet. I don't know who wrote it, but I relate to it because this is happening to me. When this happens, I love it, but I hate it.]

Cutting Down The Girl

Sickening razors, the blood that is lost,

The feeling of a high, that comes at a cost.

So lost and so torn, So broken and so beat.

A girl in her teens, suicide will defeat.

Holding a knife, she looks at the blade.

Down to her arms where scars she's made.

Want or need? to cut she shall think.

And cover herself in black not pink,

Her parents are yelling, cynical deceit,

A girl in her teens, suicide will defeat,

They see not the scars but only her mistakes,

And yell at her forever, until the day she breaks.

Falling to darkness, letting loose a few tears,

She falls to the razor, despite her fears.

Of blood and pain, she lives a sad life.

And so ends the girl with a suicide knife.

Chances are you don't understand this addiction that I have. You probably understand the addiction to alcohol or drugs, but you just can't seem to wrap your mind around why someone would go through the day thinking "I just want to cut." or "I need blood now." I know it's difficult to understand and it's okay, you don't have to because this is my battle. Most people will never understand how hard it is to ignore the urge to hurt myself. How hard it is to conquer the craving and how proud I feel when I do. I wish I had your innocence ignorance, but at the same time, I wish you'd understand. I sometimes wish you'd take it seriously instead of treating it like a joke. This isn't some rebellious stage, it's not for attention, it's to show you and everyone who thinks like you, that I'm here and I can handle my self on my own. These scars are not shameful, they're not something I regret, they're beautiful and they show who I am and how many wars I've won against the world. And for those of you who are reading this and comparing me to some book you read or an article or whatever else, understand that no matter how much you research, no matter how many people you interview, you don't understand. And never will.

Keep Silent

walking down the hall with her head held high
every hair is in its place
sees a friend and she waves hi
wearing a smile on her perfect face
friendly, smart, and beautiful
everyone adores this girl
seemingly content
her head's in a whirl
inside she's unhappy
and doesn't know why
she lays in her bed at night and cries
she doesn't know what causes the tears
how could this princess have insecurities or fears
she has it all
a pretty smile
many friends
a great guy
the newest trends
her family has money
she gets good grades
has her own car
and her makeup never fades
always looking happy
every single day
but inside she's feeling a different way
this is wonder girl
she's everyones' dream
but things aren't always what they seem

"Hey, how's everything going?" Why ask? I know you don't really care.

Smile. "Fine. Thanks. What about you?"

"Oh, I'm alright. Did you hear what happened today..."

Here we go again. Another day, same shit. People ask how I am, if everything with my hobby is going okay, but I know they don't care. I see it in their eyes. They just want to try and act like the saints they pretend to be. It's not like I care anyway. Why would I want them to know that I'm not the strong, uncaring, brave girl they think I am? Sometimes, I amuse myself with thinking how it would be if I told them how I really felt. How everyday getting out of bed is a hassle because I know I'll have to put up a facade. How when ever someone calls me "fat" or "ugly" it actually hurts so much that I want to cry. How whenever I see my ex-best friends and they act like they don't know me, I die a little inside. Feelings are a weakness. They give people ways to manipulate you. I'm fine with no one knowing. Really. But if I told them, would they care?

There's A Girl

There's a girl that doesn't know how to handle things. Everything's spiralling out of control. Maybe it's just a nightmare and she can't wake up? You would never guess her secret if you knew her. She hides it so well. She's so happy and you think she's a terrible actress and liar. How could she ever hide anything? What secret could she ever keep? Do you know? She cuts herself. She says it helps her; makes her feel better. She says that in that split second, she's in control, she has power. But it's addicting and she can't stop. She always says she'll quit and never do it again, but then something goes wrong and she breaks down. Why start? She was made fun of, tormented. Her hair, looks, body, none of it was good enough. She felt so overwelmed and knew of a friend doing it, so she tried it. Just a scratch, just little beads of blood, but the release was amazing. As time went by, the cravings got worse. She didn't just want it, she needed it. If she was in class, she'd steal paper clips, sissors, a stapler, it didn't matter, it just needed to break the skin. The blood was her only true friend. When she set it free, it released her from everything around her. Then people found out and looked at her with cold eyes. No one understood so they shunned her, except for a few select people. They all said she needed saved, but from what? Herself? She didn't understand. People could screw everyone in school, stoners could smoke weed or pop pills, why was she the freak? Then it hit her, she wasn't the freak, they were all just running away from the reality when she embraced it and even took it head on. She did as they asked, counciling to keep her mother from crying, threw away all her knives for closure for her dad, and even got checked sometimes. How is she now? Horrible. No closure. She feels like a coward. She needs to let the world know that no one can hurt her as much as she could. She needed them to know that she wasn't afraid, that she wasn't ugly anymore. The dark lines and carving had made her beautiful. They prove she won the war against the world. Who is this girl? Of the poeple you know, who does she remind you of?