Self-Destructive
I remember the first time.
Hundreds of times have I taken a blade to my skin
Pushed down hard
Learning that quick movements make them deeper
But slow inflicts more pain
I remember the first time I cut my own skin
I used my pink box cutter
Given to me in a pink tool-box along with a hammer, nails, and screwdrivers
I wanted one so I could “help daddy work more.”
I knew we were poor
But I didn’t understand it was because daddy refused to help
So I thought maybe I could
I couldn’t
So I starved my body as a distraction
And cut it open as a way to feel again
Starving numbed my pain during the day
Cutting allowed for emotions to escape at night
I am ashamed of the harm I’ve inflicted
On others
And myself
It’s hard to break self-destructive cycles
But if I don’t, I’m afraid,
Nothing will change
About the Creator
Amanda Olejniczak
I am a writer, poet, and proud advocate for mental health. Addtional content I create can be found on Instagram: @amanda_unfiltered or @amanda_unfiltered_poetry.
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