The Pain



    I cut myself. Sometimes I cry. But crying doesn’t seem to release the build up. It’s a pain I can’t control. I know it’s mental.. but it feels physical. It’s this struggle, inside my body…

    It starts from my heart. Like it’s being corroded by acid. There’s this pressure, this tension, like a tainted, poisoned vine. It expands in every inch of my body and soul, biting off my life. The barbed wires circle around my chest until it feels as if my lungs were collapsing in on themselves. I feel like I can’t breathe…

    I’m choking, a hazy cloud begins to cover my eyes. I realize they’re tears… I’m gasping for breath but it won’t stay in… I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, I’m shaking and sweating, I feel faint and slow, I try to shake myself out of it but to no avail.. My mind begins to blur and race, it’s blinding everything together. I’m outside of my body now, I can see what’s happening, yet can’t stop it. Is this me or someone else?

    She’s rocking on her feet. Is she going to fall? Her body feels like it’s being thrown in lava then dumped in ice. Her mind is corrupting as her soul goes dark, her heart is blinded from the vile within. She’s trapped with no way out. “What’s going on?” a small part existing in her says. “God help me.” She pleads to the person she’s been told to ask for in times like these.. but there’s no answer from this imaginary figment. She’s left, yet again, to be all alone. To figure it out, all on her own.

    All she can see is red, at the edges of her vision it starts to blacken. She’s scared to die. She’s being smothered by the world, everything is crushing her. She can’t hold on much longer. She wants to scream but it won’t come out. She’s so frightened of what’s going on. She’s so confused and feels so alone. The earths gravity grabs her, pulls her down into the pits of hell.

    I attain with horrendous clarity, that this girl, is me. I’m suffocating and drowning. “Help!” I gurgle, but hear nothing but a cut off squeak.

    … I have no choice, I race to where I hide it.. I don’t want it, but I can’t breathe… I snatch up the hidden bag with my razor in it… and as I pierce my skin, I see red droplets of blood erupt forth. One isn’t enough, I slice again and again and again. I don’t care if I’ll scar.Twenty or so slashes later and finally, the strain is gone, the craziness is gone. Relief rushes over me. I feel such euphoria, as if my body has ascended to the heavens. I’m able to breathe again, to live again….

    But the causes of my panic are not gone. Cutting doesn’t help solve them or diminish them. I know that, but I don’t know what else to do. Sometimes my day will start off with wild panic and terror…..

    I need help. I need a better solution. I can’t do this on my own, I’m too ashamed to ask for help. Who will take me sincerely? Who will listen? Who will help? I’m running out of options. My emotions get the best of me… I still think of just killing myself and ending it all. At least that way, I will not have to stress over things or be a burden to others….

~ Amanda Kathleen Hoffman