The Red Lines

You know what's weird? The fact I throw up when I see blood, but I wish and crave to see it when I carve the red lines into my arm. As the tears I had kept inside my body, brain, and heart finally pour out and drip down my face, so does the red from my scarred-up arm. As the red leaves my arm, so does my pain and panic. The pain I had been repressing and drowning in a black abyss in the back of my head and the panic I had been burying in the pit of my stomach and the pit of my heart. I cry, not because it hurts, but because it's working. I cry, because the red lines I have carved into my arm actually take away my hurt and replace it with relief. Relief, the feeling I have been searching for my whole life, the feeling I never had until now, the feeling that brings me peace and comfort, that stops my hurt and ends it. Until I pain and panic and crave the red lines, again.