Copyright, Krazykitty

To me, the world is nothing but grey, slivers of light occasioanally shine through, only to bounce away again off the shiny blade, as the dark clouds appear and tears fall. It has been like this for years, it seems like an eternity almost. Despair engulfs me, like a raging fire, until I have no choice but to cut. It’s either that or I die. The blade saves me, no pain, just calming drips, both from my eyes and my arms. The depression offers no forseeable way out, I only see the end, one which I am scared to embrace. It’s there, so close but… I shrink away, back to the shiny slice of silver, my best friend. It is the only one who knows about my cutting, past experience tells me to live in silence. As a twenty-three-year-old, surely life should comprise of more than a seemingly endless black hole? Where are the silver linings that my clouds should have?

When I was eighteen, my boyfriend, Jake, died. He was my life, my soulmate. Even before he died I was starting to get depression, and have pretty much had it since. It has been at its worst over the last two and a half years, and nothing seems to ward it off. I began cutting about two years ago. I was in such a state, my mind was out of control, with all this angry energy I didn’t know what to do with. At the time I was hitting walls, but it wasn’t enough. Then I turned to cutting. Initially I was shocked at what I had done, then I realised the immense relief that accompanied it. I was calm and in control again, something I hadn’t felt for ages. It almost became something I craved for. A sense of being occured as the sharp stinging was felt when my arm rubbed against the roughness of my clothes. It reminds me I am alive, not just a being full of numbness. I’m still battling with my depression and suicidal tendancies, and am still trying to figure out why I am depressed. Some days I am screaming in my head, shouting at Jake, “Why did you leave me? If you hadnt have been so stupid…” As if I would be OK if he was still here. I don’t know. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldnt. I have always been prone to depression for as long as I can remember. Almost every day I give up hope and my thoughts turn to the end, and being reunited with Jake. Maybe I am a coward, but maybe, just maybe I am hopeful that one day I will be happy again. And Jake can look down on me and be proud that I made it through.


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