• 177,263 / 1,367,868
  • 84 / 7,740
  • 874 / 54,892

Your Love Is A Razorblade Kiss

I've never been good with telling people how I feel. I've always bottled things up. Avoid and Deny is my motto. For too long I would lay awake in my bed at night, unable to stop thinking, a feeling of dread, and a horrid ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. But one night, just before starting high school in September of 2005 I found a way to make it all go away.

I've never really put any of this into words before, so please bear with me.


I live in a very small town... about 2 500 people. And I'm different. Everyone here is the same, is alike, is a clone of last person you saw. It's like watching the background of an old Flintstones cartoon. In grade eight I began coming into myself. I was lucky my parents were so cool about it. They didn't say anything about the loud heavy metal and goth core music. They supplied the money for black eyeliner, eyeshadow and the lipstick used on special occasions. Things were even good in school. These were people I had grown up with, people who knew me, who already had a sense of who I was. The change didn't affect them, or their relation ships with me.

However, I became more and more distant with the friends I had been so close with. I didn't leave my house, and spent perhaps too much time alone listening to emo-ish music and thinking. I didn't have anything in common with anyone around me. The people who had once read me like a book became confused at my presence, not able to hold back the questions. "Why do you dress like that now?" "Why do you listen to that music?" Basically, asking me why I am the person I am. Over the summer I really had time to think... and the nights of laying in my bed staring at the ceiling became more numerous.

Then a ray of sunshine through the darkening sky... or so I thought.

He was the only person that I had any connection with for a long time. And he felt it too. He even helped me be a tad more forthcoming with my emotions. He was the only person I had ever admitted having feelings for, even if I only managed to get the words out once. After a beautiful confession of how he cared for me, how he couldn't stop thinking of me things were beautiful... for exactly six days.

Understand I had experimented with some self-injury before. Nothing much... just stuff like carving his initials into my ankle with the blade I removed from the pencil sharpener.

After six days he told me there was someone else... I guess he stopped thinking of me after all. A few days of hiding misery from my parents, and letting it wash over me in waves of pathetic self pity at night were all I could take. Maybe if I had been able to cry it would have helped... I could feel the pressure building, feel my eyes well, but the tears refused to spill. Maybe had my sub conscious allowed me this release it wouldn't have happened.

In the shower a couple days later I held my razor in my hand. So sharp, so shiny, so pretty. I wonder... would it make me feel better? The memory of beautiful contentment after those little self done scarifications came back to me. So I gave it a try.

A weight I didn't even know I had been carrying on my chest seemed to leave me... like being under water too long, and rushing to th e surface. Like your first breath. I watched dark little blood droplets ooze down my leg. I decided(with out knowing it) that my legs were better... easier to hide. I had always hid my emotional pain from the world, so why would I do different with this?

Just a day or two after that experience I started high school. I would be attending high school with kids from several other communities. I didn't really know what to expect, but I got a feel for what things would be like once I walked into t he gym. All eyes on me. Oh joy. I've since inherited many nic-names... Freak, weirdo, scary goth chick among them.

But I was overjoyed when I walked into my homeroom.

Another girl sitting in the back all dressed in black, black hair hanging in her face, head down. And not only that, but someone I knew!

When we were 2 or three she and I were friends. But she had moved, and we had grown apart. And low and behold, here she was... and us two the only 'different' people in the school. We got to talking and we were so much alike! We liked the same clothes, music, art, everything! Her mind was as demented as mine, if not more so. I hadn't had so much in common with a person for as long as I could remember.

It didn't take me too long to learn she too 'self-mutilated'.

I think it was because of her that I became so t racked to guys with scares and cuts. I learned to associate that with the fact that t hey wouldn't be afraid, wouldn't be freaked you, t hat they wouldn't judge me. That they'd understand.

Before long we started doing scarifications on each other. Just random stuff we wanted mostly. It strengthened our friendship, and helped us understand each other even more I think.

Unfortunately she had stopped blood letting, something I've been interested in for some time.

At first I didn't want to go over old scars...it was like pretending something important never happened. I was oddly sentimental over them. I still am in a way, but when you're out of room that's it lol. It's go over old ones or find somewhere new, and keeping them hidden is very important to me.

I always used to say "I don't know what love is, I'm however old". At 15 my excuses are running short. I told myself after that summer that I would never let myself be venerable again. I would never admit having feelings. I would never let someone hold that power over me. I'd never let a guy make me feel like curling into the fetal position with a bottle of vodka(and a silly straw! Woot!) But now I'm not so sure. There's another guy... I want to be able to open up to him, and I want to be honest with him. He suffers with many of the same trust, insecurity, and many other issues as me. We're both so painfully shy when it comes to these things! Getting this off my chest is the first step I think. I've already confided much in him, but there are things I've never told anyone. Except all you. It's always easier to tell strangers, no? And hopefully someone can benefit in some way from this, learn from my mistakes. Don't bottle things up, it never does any good. Don't let a guy(or girl) get you down, they aren't worth it anyway, and always try to better yourself. Don't be afraid to let someone know you care for them.

Au Revoir.

Details

submitted by: Anonymous
on: 07 Feb. 2006
in Ritual

Use this link to share:


Artist: Myself%2C+A+friend
Studio: My+house%2C++her+house..
Location: Canada

Comments (0)

add a comment

There are no comments for this entry

Back to Top