II closed the door behind myself, the weight
of all that I was carrying inside, hoping that
nobody else would see it, overthrew me.
I was in the shower, shaving my legs because the following day I was going to go to the
swimming pool with my school. I was tired,
I was feeling so overwhelmed and simply
wrong in my own skin, that when I lifted the
razor it was like I was seeing it for the very first
time. Suddenly, it was no longer a simple
tool to shave my legs, but a way to make
everything I was feeling stop. So I took the
razor and without asking myself why, I slid it
over my left wrist. I, who was scared of cutting my finger with a piece of paper. I, who
couldn’t bare the sight of blood.
RELIEF MADE THE PAIN HURT LESS
Of course it hurt, the cut burnt my skin like
hell, but it was a positive kind of pain, as if
I was almost enjoying it. The problem was
that the sensation, the relief, was over in a
blink of an eye and I didn’t want it to stop.
For the first time in months, I felt like I had
power over my own body. I didn’t want to
lose it again, so I took the razor and cut my
wrist again, watching the blood spill out
and being almost awed by the sight. I did it
again and again, but I was getting anxious
{
}
I was scared of cutting
my finger on a piece of
paper, and couldn’t bare
the sight of blood.
and frustrated because I was growing very
easily used to it and every time the cut hurt
less and I just couldn’t get enough of it. The
smell of blood was almost intoxicant and I
stayed in the shower, breathing it, until my
own body felt numb and I fell, hitting my
head. I don’t know how long it took for my
mother to find me there. It is something that
she still doesn’t want to talk about and I
can’t bring myself to blame her, it must not
have been a good sight to see your daughter on the floor of the bathroom, covered in
her own blood.
HOSPITAL EXPERIENCE
They took me to the hospital and the most
embarrassing thing was that when I first
opened my eyes I didn’t remember what
I had done. I stared at my parents, who
were standing by my bed, and I was almost
annoyed to be there. Then a doctor, who I
hadn’t even noticed, made me look at my
wrist, and even though it was wrapped in a
bandage, I understood what it was covering
and all the memories of the previous days
came back to my mind. I started crying,
because I felt so ashamed and guilty. I did
not stop crying until my parents left my room
and just the doctor stayed with me, I now realize that he must have been there to make
sure I didn’t try to hurt myself again.
I stayed there just for a couple of days, and
during that period, even though I was bored
because I did not have anything particular to do, I refused to see anyone apart my
parents, because I knew I had scared them
and I didn’t want to make things even harder for them. Some friends of mine showed