I am...

I am a cutter. Bad day, the blade feels like home, calming even the loudest of storms. One slip up and it's all gone. Calm, peaceful, the blood rush is amazing. Watch all the pain and hurt disappear from your eyes. Scars hidden away, impossible to see. Have to be careful on where to cut and to tell people. Can't give a fuck, cut where you need to, and it all falls away. Can't stand to see them all look at me with concern, say fuck it and and make a little cut. Have to cut to make me happy, have to cut to forget the embarssment, have to cut so the voices quiet down, have to cut so the faces fade away. I remeber the day it all began. Cold day in early March, couldn't breathe, chocked with regret and grief, the blade took it all away. Comfortingly cool it is to hold it against my skin. Just one breath, make the cut, exhale, and it is easier to breathe. I am a cutter. It will never change how I am as a person. I still have dreams of who I want to be and who I will be, the blade just makes it easier to be numb.