I Bleed, Therefore I Am

For others, it’s self-harm. For me, it’s self-soothing—with the taste of blood. I. Fleshy Fingers When boredom hits, so does hunger. I turn into a cannibal—one that feeds on herself. A slightly grown shard of fingernail, a dry edge of skin. I bite. I chew. I swallow. I am a zombie gnawing my flesh away. And when my skin finally bleeds, I become a vampire, drinking what’s left of me. For a moment, my feast has left me satisfied. The world softens. Then the guilt returns; louder than the hunger that once roared. BUT I AM NOT A MONSTER. II. Festering Follicles When the hunger dulls, the urge to pull begins. I turn into a maniac—one who can’t resist internal screams. Hands travel to my eyelashes, even when there's barely anything left I pluck. I tug. I pull. The soft pop as each strand leaves the skin. People think ‘pain’ should stop me; instead, I feel relief, like exhaling discomfort. I twist and twirl the fallen hair around my finger. The world softens. Then the mirror catches me; revealing red eyes, bald gaps, an ugly creature. BUT I AM NOT A MONSTER. III. Spoiling Skin And when the wounds finally dry, I can’t help myself. I turn into a mummy—slowly decaying my own body. Scabs, hangnails, healing skin, all whispering to come undone. I pick. I scrape. I peel. I am a raven feeding on what’s left of me. Crazy it may seem, but it’s the only way I feel safe; digging for something beneath my dermis. I examine the damage I’ve caused for one last time. The world softens. Then realization hits; I’m twice as unloveable as I was a moment before. BUT I AM NOT A MONSTER. I am a human being; trying her best to stay sane. For others, it’s self-harm. For me, it’s self-soothing—with the taste of blood. I bleed, therefore I am.