I started hurting myself physically again a couple of days ago, over some remarks from the family. I knew I was losing it when the urges came flooding and I immediately talked to a friend. But the more I talked about it, the more it hurts, and the stronger the urges became. I was shaking terribly from the immense effort of trying to control myself.
I was honest and told her that I wanted to hurt myself because I felt pathetic and worthless, and that it'll all be well if I never existed. I was crying intensely, yet at the same time, trying to suppress my sobs and screaming. It was an ugly scene. Almost like an addict experiencing withdrawal.
Not forgetting to mention, it started off with a binge on cold pastry, bringing about a greater sense of ineffectualness. From there, it went downhill. I was crying and shaking, and scratching and biting myself. The pain on my flesh was only a fraction of the pain inside. That terrible ache one feels in their heart. Now I understand the rationale behind all the cutting people do to themselves. There really is a point when the physical hurting pales in comparison to the emotional hurting.
As much as having an unusually high level of sensibility, I knew I had to go to someone before I decide to let loose for once and go crazy with self-mutilation. As much as I don't want to bother him, knowing that he'll probably still be at work, I knew I had to do it. Proving my point, he was still at work when I texted him but he simply enquired the time I'll take to get to his place.
The usual routine of him telling me about his day at work and trying to cheer me up, before sending me to bed. Holding on to me without letting go because he knows I'll run away. My mode of defense.
He probed and I told him bits by bits. About how my self-esteem was rock bottom due to the constant branding from people. As much as I know that I'm proper and right, I can't help but to wonder if there's something wrong with me, when there's enough tirades being thrown my way.
A cycle of crying and stopping, a process of wetting his shoulder and pillow with tears. Perhaps at times incomprehensible due to the sudden outbursts and chokes in between tears.
The only random thought that night was of the sodium in my tears. Relation to human biology. I don't make sense even at such moment.
Mobile was switched off for 3 consecutive days, along with cessation of online activity and verbal communication. Total isolation.
Feeling much better now, but pondering over the aspect of me still caring as much. It only hurts so much because it came from people whom I hold dear to my heart. The nearer they are to your heart, the easier and deeper they can pierce.
Still sorting through my thoughts and trying to get a perspective.
Maybe I really am all by myself.
I hope my departure comes sooner. If I have no way of healing, then I'll suffice with the next best option. To run. As far away as possible.
I was honest and told her that I wanted to hurt myself because I felt pathetic and worthless, and that it'll all be well if I never existed. I was crying intensely, yet at the same time, trying to suppress my sobs and screaming. It was an ugly scene. Almost like an addict experiencing withdrawal.
Not forgetting to mention, it started off with a binge on cold pastry, bringing about a greater sense of ineffectualness. From there, it went downhill. I was crying and shaking, and scratching and biting myself. The pain on my flesh was only a fraction of the pain inside. That terrible ache one feels in their heart. Now I understand the rationale behind all the cutting people do to themselves. There really is a point when the physical hurting pales in comparison to the emotional hurting.
As much as having an unusually high level of sensibility, I knew I had to go to someone before I decide to let loose for once and go crazy with self-mutilation. As much as I don't want to bother him, knowing that he'll probably still be at work, I knew I had to do it. Proving my point, he was still at work when I texted him but he simply enquired the time I'll take to get to his place.
The usual routine of him telling me about his day at work and trying to cheer me up, before sending me to bed. Holding on to me without letting go because he knows I'll run away. My mode of defense.
He probed and I told him bits by bits. About how my self-esteem was rock bottom due to the constant branding from people. As much as I know that I'm proper and right, I can't help but to wonder if there's something wrong with me, when there's enough tirades being thrown my way.
A cycle of crying and stopping, a process of wetting his shoulder and pillow with tears. Perhaps at times incomprehensible due to the sudden outbursts and chokes in between tears.
The only random thought that night was of the sodium in my tears. Relation to human biology. I don't make sense even at such moment.
Mobile was switched off for 3 consecutive days, along with cessation of online activity and verbal communication. Total isolation.
Feeling much better now, but pondering over the aspect of me still caring as much. It only hurts so much because it came from people whom I hold dear to my heart. The nearer they are to your heart, the easier and deeper they can pierce.
Still sorting through my thoughts and trying to get a perspective.
Maybe I really am all by myself.
I hope my departure comes sooner. If I have no way of healing, then I'll suffice with the next best option. To run. As far away as possible.
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