scabs

Life Support.

I’ve been sleeping with the lights on.

When you love somebody enough, they could never leave you. If you push, I’ll just pull you back in. Anything to bring you back to me. Illuminate this darkness I feel washing over me. Take away all this shame and desperation. I need this comfort in knowing after all this time, we could be fine. Through the storms that turn to hurricanes. I wish I could tell you that breathing gets easier after the fog fades. I wish I had all the words to say to make you come back, but all that is mystified illusions that never existed.

I spent a lifetime relying on people. The wrong people, the right people, what does it matter. They became a crutch that helped guide me through the unknown. I am fixated on the idea that these people are the only people that understand me. They’re perfect and untouchable, everything I wish I could be. Nothing can hurt us. Placed high on these pedestals, untouchable perfection. There are cracks in your armor. Cracks in the foundations from which you stand upon. Still I would break myself before you broke. I would patch up every crack in your armor. Anything to make you better, anything to make you love me.

There’s a method to my madness
It’s clear that you don’t have a clue

The cuts they heal. The bruises they fade. The words are nothing but a lingering memory I could never escape. False hope and sweet desperations. Exasperated expectations that would never come true. I am holding on to the last bit of string that connects us. The string keeps this illusion connected between us.  I can’t hold on any longer. I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt when it does. Pretending that my scabs can easily heal into scars. You were the deepest cut, the biggest bruise, and still I wanted everything then nothing from you.

This is my world, this is my choice
And you’re the drug that gets me through

All I have left is this string that connects us. I am ready to let go now.

03/12/2008

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8/31/2015 – Day Seventeen.

I have a problem with my wrists. It’s something that I can’t exactly figure out. I stare at my wrists more than humanly possible, as if they are going to change in appearance or size. I memorize the veins and how visually transparent they seem against my skin. I feel the cracks in the bones and how phantom the pains from the past can come knocking. Sometimes they ache when they bend, but most of the time I am making something out of completely nothing.

Through the years, I see scars that were once scabs on my skin healing. Understanding from salt of words that never allowed themselves to heal properly. I remember wanting to tattoo sleeves on my arms to hide all the bruised scars, so nobody would find them. Where not even I could place the tiny lines that haunt my skin. Lines that no longer exist to the naked eye but always exist to me. I could tie a thousand ribbons on my wrist to hide from all this pain. I could paint a thousand words and sayings to take this grief from forming. I could lie to a million people that look toward my skin as a badge of honor. Some days it feels like a loss instead of an honor. I can’t help but feel guilty that I seem to always do this to myself.

Only I know my scars secrets. I know its whispers that call on me to remember things long forgotten. All the stories that come forth every time a new scar forms. I am better than this. I am stronger than these scabs that turn to scars and leave my stories on my wrists. Yet, I sit here thinking of stupid shit I should have forgiven myself long ago. I forgive myself countless times, but just muster the courage to forget.

Because I never forget.

Hurt.

Scars have a way of reminding us of who we used to be. The more I glance upon my skin, the more my scars find a way to haunt me. Telling me stories of what being broken does to harm a person, more than allowing them to heal. My scars were always my battle wounds of the past, just another story to keep to myself. One day this will all disappear, I’ll find new skin to paint over the old. Isn’t that all we really want? Just a clean slate to wash over all our prior mistakes. Some days I am ready to let go of the past, other days I can’t help but think of every single detail.

Who am I, without my broken past of broken promises. Who am I, without all the chaos and sadness that surrounds me. Who am I, in the light that changes the moment the dark hits me. Most days I am just trying to keep this broken corpse together and other days I can’t wait to tear it apart. Self destructing is in my nature, it’s something I can’t escape from. I can fool everyone but I can’t seem to fool myself. Maybe all I need is to dig myself a little deeper in the hurt and cut out the pain. Get rid of all the self destructive desires and find a way to let in the good. Because everything I am feeling is bad and all I could think about is how to hurt myself and make myself bleed.

All I have left are the scars that remind me of every tragic moment in my life. Every last broken hurtful piece of flesh that bleed through every cut. Some days I can still feel it. They are memories that no matter how you suppress them, they never truly go away. Maybe the madness never truly goes away, we all just find ways to pretend we are okay. Are we ever truly okay? Can we ever just forget the past of broken promises and give way to a peaceful future? Perhaps. Or then again there’s no such thing as a peaceful future because we are so self consumed in our past prior mistakes. It doesn’t matter how many times I wrap myself up with new skin and promises of new beginnings, I find myself picking at the scabs of cuts that should have already healed.

Why do I do that to myself? Why am I so focused on the pain and fixated on the amount of hurt I put myself through?

Days I wish I could forgive myself. Forgive every hurtful dark thing I could think about. Maybe then my heart could feel whole again. Maybe then my heart would find a way to love again. But the more I dwell the more I can’t. I can’t forgive myself when the scars are the constant reminders of my mistakes. The scars find a way to open themselves up and bleed out every terrible thing I can think about. Its the scars that keep me thinking of the darkness when I should be searching for the light.

All I want is to hurt and to continue in this pain. Watch my body self destruct and be rid of this vessel and find some peace of mind. Take all my broken pieces and find some way toward the light. This dark is to heavy and the scars are too. Who knows where the future will lead me but I know this present is persistent to this hurt. Scratch, cut, and bleed my way through. Its after all the blood has drained that the hurt will go away. Only then would I find peace.

Only then I will find the light.

7/13/2007