I found myself sitting on the floor, holding a razor in my palm, and asking myself if it was really worth it. I struggled to fight away voices that haunted my soul. And for so long, the only way to silence these voices was through pain. Allowing my eyes to stray from the razor, I looked at every detail of every scar. A tear ran down my face, and I refused to cry.
At A Glance Author Jenn Contact street_pride@yahoo.com IAM darkstar When N/A Holding the razor with every ounce of strength I had, I gently ran it across my arm. Mere inches away from the veins upon my wrist. If I cut too deep there was a chance that I was going to severe a vein, but nothing seemed to matter. My body was screaming. I needed to feel my flesh open like my lungs needed air. I was drowning in a pool of my own tears when I cut myself again. The first cut was a straight line. Simple, yet beautiful in its own way. The crimson flow ran from the wound and for a second I felt calm.
Was it really worth it? The lights were dim, the music low, and the blood thick. I was alone in the room, feeling as if I were alone in the world. It had been three nights since I took my last line of cocaine and the urge to sniff was growing stronger. But I refused to allow myself the pleasure of falling back into my old ways. For years I depended on drugs to keep me going, until I met Mike. He took me into his arms when no one else would, and he became a part of my life when I was trying to push everyone else away. Cocaine was my drug of choice; Body Modification was his.
I grew up in Los Angeles, spending everyday searching for a way to get high. Nights went by when suicide was the only thing on my mind and cocaine the only thing in my system. For years I found myself playing back and forth with the idea of ending it all. And if it had not been for Mike, then my words would not have made it this far.
We set on the porch. A gram of cocaine on the table and an uncontrollable urge to get high growing strong within my mind. If only I could have made it to the table I would have taken away all the pain with a single line. It seemed so sweet to be so deadly. But I couldn't move. My arms were bound to the chair, held down by restraints becoming a part of my flesh. It was at that moment when I realized how low I had become. I was too deep in to pull myself out without help. I realized that and it was the first time I cried in a year. He set beside, watching me cry, and whispering in my ear.
"Do you trust me?"
I could not speak. I trusted him with my life, though I had no way of saying so. I nodded, crying, and praying for help. I trusted this man, yet a part of myself was afraid. I had never met someone like him and I was scared to open up. For so long I hid within myself, burying my thoughts beneath grams of coke.
"Trust me. I won't hurt you. I'm going to help you. The way I get past emotional pain is through physical pain. Do you understand?"
I nodded again. It was all that I could.
"I'm going to show you how to free yourself. I'm going to show you how to break free from the chains that are holding you down. Will you let me?"
I had nothing to say. I was feinding for the substance on the table, and my nerves were shaken. I wanted nothing more then to close my eyes and be free from this world. If my eyes never opened again I could sleep happily.
I could feel Mike moving around me. His presence was strong and though I was afraid I felt safe. He was going to help me and I knew it. The first time he ran the razor across my arm I was taken by surprise. The blood spilling from the wound comforted me in a certain way and I wanted more. For an hour we set outside. My head held low, tears streaming down my face, and blood covering my arm.
I remember that time as if it were yesterday, and until I take my final breath I will forever owe everything I have to Mike. He was the first person to introduce me to body modification, which ultimately saved my life. I felt no need for drugs, for with the modification of my body I felt complete.
Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. I never touched another drug after that night. I had no need to. Whenever I felt an uncontrollable urge to do so, the razor in my room found comfort upon my flesh.
And here I sit. Alone, and wondering if it was all worth it. I would kill for a single line, though I know it would not complete me as much as scarification. So I turn the razor over, looking at it and wondering what I'm going to carve into myself now. I can hear his voice, whispering into my ear and telling me to free myself. It's been months since I sniffed a line, but as any other abuser will tell you, you're never completely over the feeling. You're never able to completely push it away and forget about. It stays on your mind and though you may not be thinking of it, it lingers within the depths of your soul, waiting for the right moment to strike. And as it seems the urge has returned. But will I be strong enough to force it back into it's darkness?
Running the razor across my arm, slowly and gently, I watch the blood spill from my opened flesh. It's color is comforting and I need more. The pain is beautiful in its own way and I'm thankful to be able to experience such beauty. I begin to zone out, forgetting where I'm at and forgetting the urge to dive right back into a mountain of cocaine. Moments pass by, when all I can do is moan quietly, enjoying every second of pain.
The word "Freedom" details my arm, and finally I feel as if the chains have been broken. The piercings in my body reflect times when I was working my way up, trying to better myself and unlock the chains which are now broken.
I take a breath, returning to reality. The pain felt from my arm is strong. Perhaps I went too far, cutting too deep. The bleeding won't stop, but that doesn't bother me. If I die now, at least I will die free. No more feinding for something that will only push my lower and hold me down. No more contemplating suicide, for now I am alive. More alive then ever before.
I glance at my wrist. The blood is dark, and the wound deep. My mind is clear and for once I feel satisfied. For once I truly feel safe. I drop the razor, allowing it to fall from my hand. If it were not for body modification I may not be breathing right now. Through body modification I found myself. And through the scars over my body I found freedom.