feeling really bad
my hands smell like salt-and-vinegar potato chips.
i know this should not be humorous,
because the reason they smell like that
is because of the hydrogen peroxide
i had been using earlier.
i took all the sharp things out of my room.
staplers, scissors, razors, and more.
all gone, all purged.
sitting in a box in a closet
far away from my bed and my desk.
i couldn't bring myself to take off my watch.
therein, of course, lies the real problem.
i just couldn't bear to, and so here i am.
here i am with my salty-scented hands
here i am with my stinging hip,
here i am with my butterfly bandages.
i can't seem to swallow.
i am scared.
it feels cowardly to admit,
but i am scared.
i am scared of what i can do to myself.
unlike the Make-Up Criminal,
i do not handle pain well.
but this is a different kind of pain.
stinging, not sharp. a frission, not a stab.
they do not feel remotely the same.
so here i sit, under my covers late at night
as if i am still scared of the goblins and monsters
that could grab my feet during the night.
but these blankets can't save me from myself.
the other ones were just red and irritated.
but these ones - oh, god. i drew blood.
i drew blood and it fucking hurts,
but the worst part of it is that i didn't hate it.
i hate myself for it, but i did it again.
i'm scared and i'm crying a little and
i feel so out of control that it's like i'm
holding on to something that just keeps
slipping out from under my fingers,
like i can't gain any traction against it.
and i know that when the morning comes
i'll paste a smile on and pretend i don't
hate all of my family, i'll walk down the stairs
and act nice and behave the way i should
and not think about changing my bandage.
i'll pretend nothing happened,
because that's what everyone wants to think.
because i'm just trying to stay out of trouble,
and everyone likes me better when i'm problem-free.
last night could be forgiven - haste and regrets,
quick-healing scrapes, and red marks across my stomach.
but this is a whole new level.
blood, pain, focused.
this is scary.
when they asked me what i feared,
i said "getting lost".
they laughed and assumed i merely
could not read a map.
that wasn't what i meant.
i meant "losing myself",
i meant "losing control",
i meant "losing track".
and that's what happened -
no warning and suddenly i am here,
clutching my hip and hoping to god
that it doesn't leave a scar.
nobody ever asks me what i want to be
when i'm out of university.
i want to be healthy.
i want to be safe.
i want to be happy.
i want to be everything i am not right now.