This is for Charolette. I think I might be finally comming out of my writers block.
Normal, or emo? To cut, or not to cut? How is tht even a question? So Manu thought,questions, and even answers were running through my head. None of which o would share with HER.
SHE is a therapist. But her appearance suggests she’s a porcilen Barbie, not suitable for play or exposure to screw-ups. How she got this job, I could only wonder. There were many possibilities but I didn’t dare think hard on the subject, lest my mind go onto more unwanted areas. She had a habit of wearing tight clothes and lookin at me over her full rimmed circular glasses-which I suspected to be un-perscripted, and just for show. But it didn’t matter how hard she tried, sho would have to play by my rules. For now at least.Â
“so ____, why are you here?” I could almost see how much she would prefer stairing in a morror than at my less than mediocre face.Â
“aren’t you supposed to tell me that? You ARE the expert on this subject. I’ve just been experiencingtjos for the past few years. Wht would I know?”
This seeme to wake her up a bit. Her eyes almost twinkled with interest towards this mysterious girl. “your mom told me she believes you’ve been self injuring.”
She looked so taken aback that I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Bu then she fixed me with her sympathetic eyes and in the sweetest voice she could muster asked “have you?”
There were a few ways I could answer this question: cursing, asking her a question, crying like hell, blame others. But I chose a way that was much more satisfying. I slowly got up, put my leg on her desk, and lifted my pants leg up to m knee.Â I smiled slightly as she ghasped in disbelief. Her face paled and her eyes widened. In disgust?
When she had calmed down somwhat she took a closer look at the small amount of damage I was allowing her to see. It was obvious she ha never delt with like this and of this scale.
I almost laughed when she reached out to tough my leg, as if she couldn’t believe it was real. But I swallowed my mirth as her hands began each scar. Caressing the damaged skin, which was as broken as I was. “there are other options, you know.” she slipped a medical perscription into my hand.
“‘you try to peace me slowly but I break when you hold me'”
I opened my eyes when I felt a familiar sting, and saw her pull back, stuttering an appology. H had accedentallu reopened a recent cut. I etched the blood drip down mesmerizingly. But it was saying somthing different this time. Not harsh but soft. “thank you” I softly whispered to her. Then inpulled down my pants leg, and left. I had lost my own game. I was going to take meds.
I had lost.