I wasn't sure what to do with this, so I thought I'd give it a home here. It seems like the right place for it to be.
For anyone who has struggled with self harm, it does get better
THE DRAWER
There is a drawer in my house and home
that stays shut since some time ago
It's contents known to no one but me alone
Truth be told I do look some days, but say no
I slowly ease on the pull and slide it out.
Looking in I see the black zippered case
What's inside it has said my name and shouts
I know now is the time to open it and face
My past, present and future depend on it now
The case is lighter than I remember it to be
Maybe because the contents are the why and the how
Unzipping it slowly I lift the lid and look and see
Shiny objects lay nestled in the cloth inside
Sharp, some stained with a coat of rust colored red
Whenever life hurt and took my brain for a ride
I would take the case out, open it and a feel a familiar dread
Thoughts swirl in patterns of nonsense, what do they mean
To stop them there really was only one way I knew
Lifting one of my friends out, I admire it's shine and gleam
The noise in my head would keep shouting and noise grew
A shiny sharp friend to pierce and drain away the pain
Over and over this ritual I would perform and purge
False thoughts, sounds and sights, my sanity I would regain
I'd fight, wrestle but I'd give in, unable to say no to that urge
Red colored lines appearing, flowing, washing the pain away
Explaining the scars, a game of hide and seek, no one can see me burn
I'd watch them grow, weep red magic, leave scars, day after day
Until I met the one who saved me, cared for me and I loved in return
New ways to cope, I searched and sought out over time
Talk, pills, therapy, doctors, all tried, to find the missing me
Not knowing, another would bring me tools that became mine
You came, I found the piece that was missing, that allowed me to be
Pain I caused myself would reflect onto you and invisibly scar as well
One day, I had enough of pain and marking my skin and my life
Hurt meant for me had to stop now. No longer in my mind do I dwell
Saving me, I put away that case the day I decided to become your wife.
Taking it out now, I give a last longing look at those objects of hurt
Smiling, my brain eased and settled, I zip it back up and close it now
It has a new place it needs to go and I walk it there holding it to my shirt
I open the can, into the depth it goes. Not my friends, I have no need of them now
I come to this thread once in a while. Every time I tell myself to hold back the tears this time. Every time I fail.
I've seen both ends of the spectrum. I once was too late to save a young boy, who couldn't live with sexual abuse anymore. I could only help take him down. That day is etched in my mind forever. And I've stood on an edge myself too once, thinking it might be better to take one more step, a final one. I was stopped, saved from that terrible decision. Saved, but still not sure I wanted to go on. Until I met someone who is a member here. She truly saved me, gave me a reason, gave me back the will to live. I will hold her in my heart forever.
Know, that my ears and my mind will always be open for anyone who needs them. Mail or black box me, or chat with me. If I don't have time right away, I'll find time. I'm here if you need me.
A little kindness can be so valuable, yet costs almost nothing
In many countries being gay is a crime, and even in modern societies, politicians try to legalise discrimination. Your voice can make a difference. Have a look at All Out to find out how.
Hey... pssst.... that's an l (as in luscious) at the end of my name, not an i last night wasn't a good one. today wasn't much better - struggling a bit, but hey, reading thru some of the posts here sort of helps in a cock-eyed way. I wrote this a while back - i'm a writer - this is how i deal with stuff...
“What did you learn from this?”
My therapist talking. She thinks that there are lessons in everything. My answer?
“Next time, cut vertically, not horizontally. Also, white wine goes much better with sleeping pills than red.”
I’m planning on working this into a comedy routine. I think I have a future.
I’m supposed to be writing about my feelings. I made the mistake of telling her I’m a writer. I didn’t mention that most of what I write is kind of… dirty. Really dirty. That Fifty Shades of Grey book? Children’s pabulum. I write smut. Proud of it, too.
My feelings? Seriously? Am I in high school or something? By the way, I’m not allowed to have knives or even forks. Eating cake is seriously impossible. Maybe I’m just not supposed to have cake and that’s why the no forks, no knives rule? Fuck me.
I should mention how this all came about. It started with a bath, a bottle of wine, a handful of sleeping pills, and a razor blade. The wine was lovely. The bath divine. The pills easy to swallow. And the razor blade? Well, it wasn’t as painful as I’d imagined. After that it was just a matter of sitting back, relaxing, and closing my eyes, looking forward to the first peaceful sleep I’d had in over a decade. Sweet oblivion…
Didn’t work out the way I’d planned it. Come on, for fuck’s sake, can’t I get a break just once?
Woke up in the ER. Kind of a familiar feeling, actually. Then three days in the psych ward. I wish I could have stayed longer. I’d always wanted to be McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest; "Who's the head bull-goose loony around here, bitches?” Bitches wasn't actually used in the movie, but I'm adding a little personal color in case someone from Orange is the New Black is reading this and looking for new talent.
One good thing did come about. I get to take drugs. I am supposed to take drugs. I have to take drugs. Did I mention that I like drugs? And drugs like me.
My feelings, though, that’s the subject here. I have few regrets in life. In fact, I’ll name them all, since I’m on the subject.
One: Missing my ex’s head with the wine bottle. I’m still fairly confident that, had my aim been better, I’d have done some serious damage, perhaps fatal.
Two: Not going to see the Foo Fighters at the Show Box last year when I’d scored a pair of comps (that’s free tickets passed on by someone in, or with, the band, for those of you not in the loop).
Three: Calling the cops instead of sitting in my car and bleeding to death after being one summer not so long ago. It would have, in retrospect, been so much easier than attempting to deal with the aftermath for the past two and a half years.
And Four: Not succeeding in killing myself.
Really, that’s it. Simple, short, and to the point.
What I’m really trying to say here is that if it had been a fucking cry for help, I’d have told someone and given them the chance to talk me out of it. It wasn’t. I was merely fed up with the nightmares. I was so tired of dealing with the fall out, day after day, night after night, that yes, killing myself seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.
So yeah, my feelings...
I am supposed to be sorry. I am supposed to regret trying to do something stupid like killing myself. I am supposed to make amends. That’s what I’m told. Sometimes I even buy into it. Mostly, I just sort of stare at things or contemplate the lint in my navel and try to eat salad with a spoon. My true feelings? I’d kill for a piece of cake right now.
You can’t truly call yourself peaceful unless you are capable of violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful. You’re harmless.
It took a very long time to reconcile some of the terrible things that I endured, was to forgive myself. I forgave myself for losing my power. Forgot about the asshole that violated me, (may they all reap what they sow!) but carrying hate in ones heart is like drinking poison
I have three famous stories, 2 recommended reads and have come in the top ten in two competitions~ Come in and make yourself at home.
You're a brave girl Sprite
Forgive. Such a wonderful word and such a wonderful gift, if you can. But how do you forgive someone for bringing a 15-year old to the point where all he still wants is to escape life. And how do you forgive yourself for missing all the signals from him and the others that asshole abused? And most of all, how do you forgive yourself for being to late to save him? The odd thing is, I do, most off the time, manage to forgive myself, and forget about the hate. I hate hate. But sometimes it flares up. I can't help that. And then the what ifs come to haunt. Could I have prevented it if...? The worst thing is knowing, that the answer to some of those what ifs is yes, I probably could have.
I said I hate hate. But I hate myself on days like this, and him. On days like this, I hope that asshole walks in front of my car one day. But I honestly hope, that if he does, it won't be on a day like this, but on a day I am able to forgive, enough at least to suppress the hate. Because I hate hate.
A little kindness can be so valuable, yet costs almost nothing
In many countries being gay is a crime, and even in modern societies, politicians try to legalise discrimination. Your voice can make a difference. Have a look at All Out to find out how.
Hey... pssst.... that's an l (as in luscious) at the end of my name, not an i 
also, i've been working out at a gym - speed bag and even spending time in the ring boxing, i've been practicing tai chi and kung fu for ages now. actually, my goal is to be the next MMA champ - Rhonda Rousey, move your ass over lol 
sadly, when it came down to it, didn't do much good when it mattered, which still kind of gets to me on occasion. 
