Self Harm isn't just about Self Harm

the thing is… sometimes self harm isn’t about pain, it’s about things that last and things that dont. the pain doesn’t last, not the stinging, not the burning, not the grating feeling, nor the sickness in your gut, nor the emptiness, nor that feeling that leads you to that pain in the first place. it doesn’t last. the scars last, whether you can see them or not. they fade but they last, if you’re lucky they stay out of sight and out of mind. i suppose i'm lucky, most of the time.

self harm is about want. a want for more. more and more and more. because it’s what i deserve. or thought i deserved, anyway. i didn’t deserve that. you don’t deserve that. i know your mind might be telling you that you do but listen to me. you don’t. want leaves your system after a while. i won’t lie and say it doesn’t come back. it does, but it’s so tiny. so so so tiny. or maybe i'm just better now, so filled with stability, that it seems tiny.

self harm is about time. the time spent not self harming and the time spent destroying another part of me. no matter how much time i spent not hurting myself, it seemed as if i always fell back into it. like i would always fall back into it. always isn’t forever. i haven't fallen. i won’t fall. i know that. do you?

self harm is about euphoria. it feels good. fantastic. like heaven. but it is not heaven. heaven is the purest of love. there is no love in something that exists out of hate. i've felt high in different ways. in the way where when she hugs me i don’t ever want to let go. in the way where i feel warm when my brother cuddles up to me. in the way where i finally say ‘i love you’ first rather than waiting for them to say it so that i'm not risking anything. trust me, you’ll get those endorphins rushing. you won’t need to hurt yourself for it to happen.

beating self harm is about a year and some odd months of being free. it’s about a strength that comes with learning to forgive, and to love, and to live. it’s about happiness, great and small. it’s about… you, and whether you decide to or not.

This poem is about: 
Me

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