She wonders if anyone else could smell that. The rust and dirt on the brick path beneath her feet, the damp smell of the lake at the end of the trail. Could anyone else hear the soft patter of her cats paws following her as a baby from a distant home stirs and is about to wake. Finally, she veers off the path into the moonlit grassy area closest to the waters edge. An unknown creature moves in the water. She holds her left arm with her right as crimson lava exudes out of cuts drawn on her forearm. A breeze comes off of the […]
Tag:
Forearms
I’ve had images of hanging myself, stepping in front of a train or automobile, and now I’m obsessed with thoughts of knives through my arms.
I’ve never cut. I can’t handle physical pain, so why does my mind automatically go toward knives puncturing through my forearms? It wouldn’t be a release for me as I have understood it to be so for other people. Instead, the physical pain would be a distraction to the mental pain. It would also be a punishment.