by Lauren Graham

Created on: January 01, 2009

Moments in my Young Mind

I rolled my eyes into the back of my head wishing I could find the words to make it stop. Wishing I could find a way to make my heart and mind, voice and hands, work together as one. I can hear the dog crying on the other side of the door, wondering why I shut her out. The television in the other room seems so loud it almost mutes the voices within.

Will you do it this time? Will you finally make good on those promises? Its shameful the amount of threats you've made in the past. What will they say about you when you finally don't walk out that front door? Will they know immediately? Or will it take a few days? A few week until the neighbors finally call the apartment staff about the smell. Or the dog barks for three days straight until finally someone calls the police. Will it be someone you know that finds you? How many people have the key to get in? Maybe it is best if it is a stranger.

I grab my head in the palm of both hands and violently shake it back in forth. Hoping somehow this will make all the voices fade away into silence. But even that doesnt seem to make a difference. Its almost as if my mind is disrespecting me. Like I am second in command over this whole thing.

I look down at my arms. Both are littered with scars. Some are dark and bold. Others shine in the light like vertical lines on a canvas. And then there are those not yet healed. Still pink and glossy from their newly formed skin.

Do I want to go through with this? The self mutilation was always enough in the past. To subdue the urges. A small taste of a huge possibility. But I'm already in here. The water is already running. The blades are already out, cleaned, and haunting me from the sink. Surely the dog knows why I'm in here; she always did before. Every time the water stopped and I step out to fall into bed, she was there. Slinking up to me in the dark of night to lay flush against my side. Yes, she knows.

Perhaps Im just going about this the wrong way. What about drugs or alcohol...or both? There are so many posibilities but none are guarunteed. None are a sure thing. All are painful and unforgiving. And I do care what they will find. What they will see, no matter if it is a stranger or not.

This whole thing is exhausting and I haven't even started. Maybe tonight isn't the right time after all. The funny thing is I can hear them laughing at me in my head. Maybe I should turn off the water and crawl into bed. In the morning this will all seem like a bad dream. Something I can write about in my blog or discuss in an hour long therapy session. Maybe a few quick swipes will hold me over like always. Cradle the urge and smother the hopelessness.

I guess the sad realization is there is no normal from here. Even if I back out, like I always do, there is no turning back. It isn't a question of how...but a question of when.

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