How do you fight
A formless shadow?
As fast as you light
A candle,
It's blown out.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
A Glimpse and Half a Look
Scars don't fade.
Inside or out,
Inside or out,
It's all the same. The scars on my arm are an angry red, the ones on my legs a purple shade. The older ones are pale brown, but all stand out, all easily found. Criss-cross the knife sliced, in jagged lines the blood flowed. And the scars remain.
What brought this on, this morbid remembrance? A glimpse and half a look, that's all. A knife half-seen, a glimpse of blade...that's all it took. I didn't really want to cut, I was doing just fine. But all of a sudden, when he leaned over and I saw that knife, mine's twin, sticking out of his pocket...the desire crashed over me like a wave.
And the wave crashes
And the fire roars
And I'm drowning
Burning.
Calm the waves!
Quench the fire!
Help me before I'm
Overcome.
What brought this on, this morbid remembrance? A glimpse and half a look, that's all. A knife half-seen, a glimpse of blade...that's all it took. I didn't really want to cut, I was doing just fine. But all of a sudden, when he leaned over and I saw that knife, mine's twin, sticking out of his pocket...the desire crashed over me like a wave.
And the wave crashes
And the fire roars
And I'm drowning
Burning.
Calm the waves!
Quench the fire!
Help me before I'm
Overcome.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Death, Despair, and Destruction
WARNING!!!!!! Please remember that I write in order to express feelings if I can before trying to express them through blood. Also note that I do NOT desire to kill myself, it is just an internal struggle that annoys the crap out of me. I don't know where it comes from and I'd really like it to stop. But it won't. And so that is where this post comes from.
Death, destruction, and despair...starting to become pretty commonplace in my life. I can't decide whether that is good or bad. They're starting to lose their sting, starting to become a little less...horrible. "O grave, where is thy victory; o death, where is thy sting?" True words, and ones I have no problem agreeing with. Score one for you, God.
Death, death, and more death. Yay. The mood I'm in now...prolly not good for me. I'm dwelling too much on October, on what I did "wrong," what i could have done to actually succeed...and something is pushing me to try again. That scares me like you wouldn't believe. I know what it takes to make me take that final step, to try it...and it's not much. It only takes the right combo of darkness, depression, self-pity, and loneliness...a combo I can feel myself fast approaching, a place I don't want to be. Oh, yeah, and pain...both physical and emotional/mental. I got that too.
So, I'm both dark and terrified, and the terror only drives the darkness deeper. So I've got the feeling in my stomach that invariably leads to blood...but I'm scared to do that, too, because I might not be able to stifle the urge to go too far. But I really want to, so I might anyway, so it's like...i'm unsure
And I hate being unsure of my ability to control myself. I can control nothing else about my life besides my own actions, and if I can't control even that, where am I? Drifting is only good if I choose to. When I feel like i have no control over what i do OR what others do in my life...what is the point of me living it?
I'm not saying I want to stop living, although on some level, that is what I'm saying. I have an amazing reason to go on living...it's my fiance. And not wanting to hurt my friends. But for my beloved, it's more than just not wanting to hurt him. I want to give him a lifetime of loving to make up for the sucky existence he's had so far. And beyond that I just want him to know he's loved, because he is my lover and he deserves it. And selfishly, I want him to love me for the rest of my life, too...and it's hard to love a corpse or a memory. So yeah, i don't want to hurt him, but i also want to give him the love he deserves.
But that love doesn't negate the urge to...well, to kill myself. They both exist in my soul and they fight, and it's starting to tear me apart. And cutting would help with the conflict, but there again is the question of going too far, of not being able to control myself. It's driving me, pushing me too far, drowning me.
Death, destruction, and despair...starting to become pretty commonplace in my life. I can't decide whether that is good or bad. They're starting to lose their sting, starting to become a little less...horrible. "O grave, where is thy victory; o death, where is thy sting?" True words, and ones I have no problem agreeing with. Score one for you, God.
Death, death, and more death. Yay. The mood I'm in now...prolly not good for me. I'm dwelling too much on October, on what I did "wrong," what i could have done to actually succeed...and something is pushing me to try again. That scares me like you wouldn't believe. I know what it takes to make me take that final step, to try it...and it's not much. It only takes the right combo of darkness, depression, self-pity, and loneliness...a combo I can feel myself fast approaching, a place I don't want to be. Oh, yeah, and pain...both physical and emotional/mental. I got that too.
So, I'm both dark and terrified, and the terror only drives the darkness deeper. So I've got the feeling in my stomach that invariably leads to blood...but I'm scared to do that, too, because I might not be able to stifle the urge to go too far. But I really want to, so I might anyway, so it's like...i'm unsure
And I hate being unsure of my ability to control myself. I can control nothing else about my life besides my own actions, and if I can't control even that, where am I? Drifting is only good if I choose to. When I feel like i have no control over what i do OR what others do in my life...what is the point of me living it?
I'm not saying I want to stop living, although on some level, that is what I'm saying. I have an amazing reason to go on living...it's my fiance. And not wanting to hurt my friends. But for my beloved, it's more than just not wanting to hurt him. I want to give him a lifetime of loving to make up for the sucky existence he's had so far. And beyond that I just want him to know he's loved, because he is my lover and he deserves it. And selfishly, I want him to love me for the rest of my life, too...and it's hard to love a corpse or a memory. So yeah, i don't want to hurt him, but i also want to give him the love he deserves.
But that love doesn't negate the urge to...well, to kill myself. They both exist in my soul and they fight, and it's starting to tear me apart. And cutting would help with the conflict, but there again is the question of going too far, of not being able to control myself. It's driving me, pushing me too far, drowning me.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Who Is That Girl?
See that girl?
Do you know her?
You see her...
Almost every day.
What is her name?
Do you know
Who she is?
She's wearing the usual...
Long black sleeves,
Black jeans, and boots.
Do you know why?
They cover arms
Layered with scars
And legs much the same.
Now do you know
Who she is?
"Emo!" you whisper.
"Cutter! Freak!
She's just looking
For attention.
Ignore her."
You idiots.
If she wanted attention
She'd let you see
All the fresh cuts
And old scars.
But you...you can't even see
Past her dark clothes
Much less past
Her ravaged skin
To see her torn and bleeding soul.
Guess what, you
Self-centered
Self-righteous
Hypocrites...
She needs you.
You hold the key!
You hold the gospel!
Jesus didn't shed his lifeblood
So you could withhold it
From the "unworthy."
You didn't deserve it,
Either.
So what are you
Going to do?
Ignore her
As you see her every day?
Or will you
Swallow your stinking pride
And tell her that...
Jesus Loves Her!
~~~~~~~
So, I know what happened.
You refused.
Sat back in your pew,
Said, "I don't know what to say.
Somebody else
Will tell her
(Rebellious twit)."
Sunday morning
Sunday school
You hear the sirens
See the flashing lights
As the ambulance flies by.
You think nothing of it...
Happens all the time.
Monday morning
You grab the morning paper
As you drink your coffee.
There's her face
Staring up at you
From the front page.
"SUICIDE!!!" It screams
In bold black type
Splashed across the page.
Sort of like her blood
Splashed on the bathroom wall
When she decided life was done
And sliced a razor blade
Across her life-vein.
You knew her.
But you never gave her the key
To unlock the chains
That bound her in darkness.
Do you know where she is?
You should.
You condemned her there.
You sent her to HELL
As surely as if your hand
Held the blade.
So what are you going to do?
"Sorry" just isn't enough,
Is it?
Can you close your eyes
Without her face floating
Through your dreams?
Can you drown out
Her screams of torment
By playing loud hymns?
Can you read your Bible
Without seeing that headline
Superimposed across the page?
Cry out to God, Christian!
Plead for his forgiveness...
It's too late to ask for hers.
~~~~~~~
It's been a few months now.
The guilt has settled to a dull ache
Behind your breastbone.
Do you see her?
She looks familiar...
You don't know why.
Then...you realize.
It's the dark hair,
The long dark sleeves,
The black jeans and boots.
You know who she is.
"Emo!" Your mind whispers.
"Cutter!"
What happens next...
Well.
That...
Is up to YOU.
Do you know her?
You see her...
Almost every day.
What is her name?
Do you know
Who she is?
She's wearing the usual...
Long black sleeves,
Black jeans, and boots.
Do you know why?
They cover arms
Layered with scars
And legs much the same.
Now do you know
Who she is?
"Emo!" you whisper.
"Cutter! Freak!
She's just looking
For attention.
Ignore her."
You idiots.
If she wanted attention
She'd let you see
All the fresh cuts
And old scars.
But you...you can't even see
Past her dark clothes
Much less past
Her ravaged skin
To see her torn and bleeding soul.
Guess what, you
Self-centered
Self-righteous
Hypocrites...
She needs you.
You hold the key!
You hold the gospel!
Jesus didn't shed his lifeblood
So you could withhold it
From the "unworthy."
You didn't deserve it,
Either.
So what are you
Going to do?
Ignore her
As you see her every day?
Or will you
Swallow your stinking pride
And tell her that...
Jesus Loves Her!
~~~~~~~
So, I know what happened.
You refused.
Sat back in your pew,
Said, "I don't know what to say.
Somebody else
Will tell her
(Rebellious twit)."
Sunday morning
Sunday school
You hear the sirens
See the flashing lights
As the ambulance flies by.
You think nothing of it...
Happens all the time.
Monday morning
You grab the morning paper
As you drink your coffee.
There's her face
Staring up at you
From the front page.
"SUICIDE!!!" It screams
In bold black type
Splashed across the page.
Sort of like her blood
Splashed on the bathroom wall
When she decided life was done
And sliced a razor blade
Across her life-vein.
You knew her.
But you never gave her the key
To unlock the chains
That bound her in darkness.
Do you know where she is?
You should.
You condemned her there.
You sent her to HELL
As surely as if your hand
Held the blade.
So what are you going to do?
"Sorry" just isn't enough,
Is it?
Can you close your eyes
Without her face floating
Through your dreams?
Can you drown out
Her screams of torment
By playing loud hymns?
Can you read your Bible
Without seeing that headline
Superimposed across the page?
Cry out to God, Christian!
Plead for his forgiveness...
It's too late to ask for hers.
~~~~~~~
It's been a few months now.
The guilt has settled to a dull ache
Behind your breastbone.
Do you see her?
She looks familiar...
You don't know why.
Then...you realize.
It's the dark hair,
The long dark sleeves,
The black jeans and boots.
You know who she is.
"Emo!" Your mind whispers.
"Cutter!"
What happens next...
Well.
That...
Is up to YOU.
But in Dreams...
As I laid upon my bed last night, I dreamed
Of many varied things, and yet it seemed
That one stood out above the rest
And even waking puts my faith to test.
The dream a nightmare some would call
But I did not find it so at all.
I dreamed of blood flowing fast and free,
But blood not of Christ, but rather, me.
Not all my blood, nor by my own hand,
But enough that me it left no strength to stand.
I woke to regret, but not to fright:
Saddened the dream lasted not all the night.
Now waking and sleeping, when my eyes drift shut,
I see the blood, and a razor blade, poised to cut.
Thirst and hunger over me have no sway,
But the blood! It clouds me even as I pray.
Of many varied things, and yet it seemed
That one stood out above the rest
And even waking puts my faith to test.
The dream a nightmare some would call
But I did not find it so at all.
I dreamed of blood flowing fast and free,
But blood not of Christ, but rather, me.
Not all my blood, nor by my own hand,
But enough that me it left no strength to stand.
I woke to regret, but not to fright:
Saddened the dream lasted not all the night.
Now waking and sleeping, when my eyes drift shut,
I see the blood, and a razor blade, poised to cut.
Thirst and hunger over me have no sway,
But the blood! It clouds me even as I pray.
Friday, February 5, 2010
My Heart is Bleeding...
Broken
Jagged
Bleeding
My heart
Can't be
Mended
Shattered
Scattered
Jagged
Bleeding
My heart
Can't be
Mended
Shattered
Scattered
Reach out
Grasp blade
Blood flows
Tears too
Always
Alone
Friends can't
Be near
Lover's
Away
I am
Cutter
Now and
Always
Never
Can change
The past
Buried
Rises
Reclaims
My mind
Stay down!
Go back!
Leave me!
You're dead!
Feel it
Darkness
Pushing
Prying
Worming
Claiming
My thoughts
Why cut?
Darkness.
Red is
Not black.
Darkness
Consumes
Darkness
Controls
Chain me
Break me
Beat me
Wound me
Deserved!
Cut off
Alone
A life
Wasted
Pointless
Ever
Searching
Never
Finding
Silence,
O Heart.
Beat not
Bleed not
Feel not
Shadows
Falling
Cover...
All hope
Make words
Why cut?
Know not
Still do
Feel pain
Inside
Show pain
With blood
Why pain
So much?
What cause?
DON'T KNOW!
Make words?
Are none.
Ah...God.
Spew out
Poison
Bitter
Hatred
Where from?
From life!
No joy!
No peace!
No rest!
No strength!
Like blood
Words flow
Why, God?
Why pain?
Where's joy?
Grasp blade
Blood flows
Tears too
Always
Alone
Friends can't
Be near
Lover's
Away
I am
Cutter
Now and
Always
Never
Can change
The past
Buried
Rises
Reclaims
My mind
Stay down!
Go back!
Leave me!
You're dead!
Feel it
Darkness
Pushing
Prying
Worming
Claiming
My thoughts
Why cut?
Darkness.
Red is
Not black.
Darkness
Consumes
Darkness
Controls
Chain me
Break me
Beat me
Wound me
Deserved!
Cut off
Alone
A life
Wasted
Pointless
Ever
Searching
Never
Finding
Silence,
O Heart.
Beat not
Bleed not
Feel not
Shadows
Falling
Cover...
All hope
Make words
Why cut?
Know not
Still do
Feel pain
Inside
Show pain
With blood
Why pain
So much?
What cause?
DON'T KNOW!
Make words?
Are none.
Ah...God.
Spew out
Poison
Bitter
Hatred
Where from?
From life!
No joy!
No peace!
No rest!
No strength!
Like blood
Words flow
Why, God?
Why pain?
Where's joy?
"Savior"
From what?
Hell, right?
I live
In Hell!
Burning
Darkness
Screaming
Anguish
Hopeless
Torment
Hellfire!
Broken
Bleeding
Empty
Joyless
Hopeless...
Darkness
Always.
From what?
Hell, right?
I live
In Hell!
Burning
Darkness
Screaming
Anguish
Hopeless
Torment
Hellfire!
Broken
Bleeding
Empty
Joyless
Hopeless...
Darkness
Always.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Fence-Rail Sitting
My backside hurts
From this fencerail
I'm sitting on.
I have to get off
Soon.
Which way
Will I go?
I can't have both things.
I can't glorify God
And cut.
I can't claim both his blood
And mine.
But I don't know
What I want!
I don't know
What to live for.
I've tasted God's goodness
A time or two
I know what it is
Sort of.
Never tasted it more
Than a few days
Maybe a month.
Rest of my life has been
Well, pretty sucky
And I find a way
To deal finally
It's just less acceptable
Than eating
Or sleeping
Or video games
Or this writing
Or talking...
All the other things
People do
To cope.
Because I cope
With a razor blade
I'm considered
Strange
A monster, almost
Certainly condemned
But they're right
I'm a monster
I'm strange
Weird
Different
I get stressed
Everyone does
But I relieve that stress
With blood
Which is biblical
I've just got the wrong blood
I love blood
Too much
For sure
But more I love the pain
Because like he said
It puts actions to feelings
Otherwise inexpressable
It shows
If only to myself
How much I hurt
I don't wanna go back!
I don't wanna revisit
The past
It should stay where it is
An occasional overarching pain
Sure, it can strike
Without warning
Maybe it colors my thinking
More than I know
Maybe it's the root of the pain
I don't care
I keep that pain
In a locked box
In a locked room
Behind a locked door
Behind another locked door
Buried in a cave
In the middle of the ocean
It has consumed too much
Of my life
Already
Why give it more?
I used to think about it
Continuously
Now it's less and less
Bringing it up again
Only makes it worse.
From this fencerail
I'm sitting on.
I have to get off
Soon.
Which way
Will I go?
I can't have both things.
I can't glorify God
And cut.
I can't claim both his blood
And mine.
But I don't know
What I want!
I don't know
What to live for.
I've tasted God's goodness
A time or two
I know what it is
Sort of.
Never tasted it more
Than a few days
Maybe a month.
Rest of my life has been
Well, pretty sucky
And I find a way
To deal finally
It's just less acceptable
Than eating
Or sleeping
Or video games
Or this writing
Or talking...
All the other things
People do
To cope.
Because I cope
With a razor blade
I'm considered
Strange
A monster, almost
Certainly condemned
But they're right
I'm a monster
I'm strange
Weird
Different
I get stressed
Everyone does
But I relieve that stress
With blood
Which is biblical
I've just got the wrong blood
I love blood
Too much
For sure
But more I love the pain
Because like he said
It puts actions to feelings
Otherwise inexpressable
It shows
If only to myself
How much I hurt
I don't wanna go back!
I don't wanna revisit
The past
It should stay where it is
An occasional overarching pain
Sure, it can strike
Without warning
Maybe it colors my thinking
More than I know
Maybe it's the root of the pain
I don't care
I keep that pain
In a locked box
In a locked room
Behind a locked door
Behind another locked door
Buried in a cave
In the middle of the ocean
It has consumed too much
Of my life
Already
Why give it more?
I used to think about it
Continuously
Now it's less and less
Bringing it up again
Only makes it worse.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Wake Up
It is so easy for you to sit in your bubble, where things like depression and mental illness are experienced but not discussed, and say that they don't exist. It is easy for you to say to love God, to trust him, and that if we do, the depression will automagically disappear. The truth is, you're wrong. A time or two that may work, and a time or two more we will tell you it worked, lest you judge us. Because you will. You do. Beware, O Christian college student, of uttering the words, "I'm clinically depressed." You may desire help, but you will only receive condemnation. You grew up in a Christian home...I dare say it was an internal battle or two before you even saw a psychologist to obtain that diagnosis. But you did, and now you have this prescription...but God forbid you should mention that you're taking this medication. That's like...sinful, or something! It's not...but that's the way we've been made to feel, isn't it? But it is so easy for all you people to sit in your bubble and say "depression isn't real, it doesn't exist, especially not among Christians." Or cutting. You have fooled yourselves. Open your eyes, look to see! On my college campus of less than nine hundred, there were four of us that I know of for sure, and several dozen that I'm pretty sure of. All cutters. People...it does exist!
We are here, we are hurting, and we want help...but you continue to convince yourselves that we don't exist. Ah, my friends...my heart bleeds for YOU! Your life is built on a lie. You're hiding in a bubble, and eventually it will pop. Then where will you be? You will learn very quickly that these things are real, and you won't have your bubble-mates to reassure you. Try walking up to me and trying to discuss with me that depression isn't real. You have tried in the past. I know how to silence you: "I was diagnosed with clinical depression while I was in a mental hospital for attempted suicide." You generally back away, judging, or sometimes, ashamed.
So don't TELL me depression isn't real. I live it. Don't TELL me Christians don't cut. I am and I do. Wake up, Christians! Open your eyes! And instead of condemning us...help us.
We are here, we are hurting, and we want help...but you continue to convince yourselves that we don't exist. Ah, my friends...my heart bleeds for YOU! Your life is built on a lie. You're hiding in a bubble, and eventually it will pop. Then where will you be? You will learn very quickly that these things are real, and you won't have your bubble-mates to reassure you. Try walking up to me and trying to discuss with me that depression isn't real. You have tried in the past. I know how to silence you: "I was diagnosed with clinical depression while I was in a mental hospital for attempted suicide." You generally back away, judging, or sometimes, ashamed.
So don't TELL me depression isn't real. I live it. Don't TELL me Christians don't cut. I am and I do. Wake up, Christians! Open your eyes! And instead of condemning us...help us.
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