I’ve been near vomiting on three separate occasions. My headaches are increasingly severe. One week after ending my lovely 17 day period I began to menstruate again. I’m bloated and cramped up and nauseous. In a fit of anger toward my difficult body I took a razor to my arm.

I was too upset from crying to pull apart my razor so I ended up only committing some scratches to my flesh with the dull edge. But it stopped my tears. Hot red drops contrasting with the clean whiteness of my inner arm, and I smeared it around with my finger. I made one fresh slice with the razor. I like how little sensation occurs with the gliding of the metal. A gentle pause followed by a subtle line of red that thickens slowly.

I almost started cutting my breasts. I tend to make cuts on the inner curves. I needed to cut away my sexuality. I didn’t want to be desirable. I felt guilty from the first scratch on my arm, though, afraid of upsetting my boyfriend whom I’d planned on seeing that evening.

I felt disconnected from my body. It’s not really mine. It’s simply a canvas at which others may gaze, a hole, a plaything. I want to get away from it. Starve away the soft tissues and bleed out the unnecessary.

After crying for a solid two hours whilst sitting on my bathroom floor, I finally managed to leave the house. I travelled with blood shot eyes and blotchy skin. Fuelled by self-loathing and obsessive need.

When I eventually see my boyfriend I am overcome with a greedy desire to be touched, kissed, fucked endlessly.

I can escape my physical and mental pain in the gleaming silver of a razor or the glowing skin of another. Everything becomes better. All the horrible thoughts go away. My foggy mind is instantly cleared by a smooth touch.

But I need not escape, but complete erasure. I don’t want to see my blood to know that I am alive. I don’t want to seek sex in order to reassure myself that I’m still human (after years of faking it).

I want to improve. I want off of anti-depressants. I don’t want to take an assortment of painkillers everyday. I don’t want to sleep for fifteen hours and still feel exhausted. I don’t want to be such a lazy unproductive slob. I don’t want to binge.

I want to get better for myself. I think that I deserve to truly enjoy the great things that are happening in my life. I want my mind to return to me. I want to ease the minds of others.

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