Today I cut myself. With sound mind and consciousness, I let my fingers lead the end of the razor into the depth of my skin.
Today I went out. I walked around without aim for an hour and a half and finally decided on which brand i wanted to use. I decided that if i was going to do it, i was going to do it well.
Today I understood. I understood that there is nothing left to understand. I got that i wanted this physical pain to cloud the emotional trauma that was choking me. Like a mountain that aided relief rain, i was getting tired of being hit by the wind but never getting penetrated.
I needed an outlet. Some sort of opening. Some kind of way to let this pain go away. Just anything! I’d seen a couple of people do it and i didn’t understand why.
Then just like that, i felt the need to distract myself from my demons. I promise i would have cut something worse than the skin above my wrists if it meant that i would feel better. Even if it was just for a short time. I didn’t care. No. I cared. I just didn’t mind what happened.
So i got the razor and forced my bathroom mirror to bear witness to….what? I have no idea. I guess i just needed to know if i would feel the same sort of emotions towards me if i did a him on me.
I have talked about it. I have looked at it, passed by and looked back as i walked away. I have even seen him and thought about it. But I’ve never had the guts to walk through memory even with the one person whose sole aim is to make me better.
Memory scarred. Memory buried. Memory dug up and brought back home. Memory staring me right in the face as i open the front door.
Believe me, I’ve tried to walk. Sometimes it’s just easier to run through the rain forest at night before your imagination catches up with you , you know? It wasn’t this late. It wasn’t even that dark.
Today i walked through the rain forest. I then remembered exactly why it took me that long to start walking. I close my eyes.
I see his long lanky body on mine. His roughly chapped lips climbing my neck. His hands… I see his hands venture a hollow. His fingers knocking on a door to a party he wasn’t invited to. Obviously he didn’t mind being a party crasher.
I screamed.
I yelled.
I pulled.
I pushed.
It was too loud. Too dark. His smile told me “No one’s coming to get you”. I called your name. I screamed for you. Where were you when i needed you?! Were other things too important to leave for me? Did my cry for help mean nothing to you?

I felt myself choke on my tears as he slapped off my hands which were playing twiddle in between my legs. I prayed for you to come get me when he started choking me.
And then it all stopped. He stopped. Like he was contemplating his next step. It was at that instant that i realized that it’s true what they say. A woman’s strength cannot be compared to that of a man’s.
Tears dripping on my face like it was poured. Like the ducts couldn’t make them anymore. My eyes widened as i felt his penis.
I wished for the world to end. I wished for Arnold Schwarzenegger to walk in. I wished for my best friend to come save me. I was on my own.
As his genitals entered mine, wet, bloody by Miss Red, I became the smallest I’ve been. My most vulnerable moment right there. The sharpest pain I’ve felt right there. Half of my hopes died right there.
I couldn’t scream anymore. Couldn’t push. Couldn’t fight. I just wanted everything to go blank. And it did. It went blank fast.
#A F I A


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