TW TW TW:
it finally happened
after almost a year of not laying a razor to my skin, like clockwork, tonight I did.
i knew i wanted to, so after work, I went to the bar instead of going home right away. I thought that maybe I would be deterred from these urges.
i was not.
instead I drank three whiskeys and then, instead of calling a cab or hopping on the subway, I started walking. mind you it’s a two hour walk home, with two inches of snow already on the ground, and more plummeting from the sky.
my phone died 10 minutes into my venture home. luckily i wore 2 pairs of socks. I keep walking.
eventually I turn onto my street, and I enter my apartment. I feel no more level headed than I did when I started this death march, so I collapse onto my bedroom floor once I get inside. in fact, I feel worse. I turn on some music, and rifle through my junk drawer until a plastic yellow container turns up. it contains a few razors. I sit on the floor with one next to me.
at this point I really haven’t made any decisions. I don’t even know what I want to do with that razor. before I know it I’m writhing on the floor, a single cut has (painlessly) appeared across my thigh, small droplets appearing from the slit.
that was it. just one cut. I bled for almost 20 minutes. I can’t believe I’m still doing this, ten years after my first cut. I’m supposed to grown up by now, right?
I tried reaching out to a few friends before I left the bar. before I even finished my first drink. they stopped replying. sometimes I think I’m just meant to be alone. and that’s why the only person who understood me was taken away.
im not going to cut anymore tonight. but I just needed to tell someone, even if it’s 2:30 am and no one will respond until much later. I’ve been on this site for a short period of time and already trust spilling my thoughts here more than with the people I know IRL….