It’s like feeling so much pain emotionally that a physical outlet – physical pain was the only way to make the internal pain go away. It’s the only way to control it. There are grey days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and life is just numb. That it’s okay sometimes because at least you know you’re alive. You don’t want to die, or commit suicide; you just want to the stop the pain. Almost like a distraction. Death doesn’t seem suddenly appealing. There’s a time when you reach a certain unendurable level where hurting yourself seems the only way out. The same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning building. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great, the fear of falling still remains constant. But it’s the other terror, the fires flames, when the flames get close enough; falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall, it’s the fear of getting burnt. Some people will never get this, not really, you’d have to have personally been trapped and felt the flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling. Sometimes I look and my scars and see something else; a girl who was trying to cope with something horrible that she should never have had to live through at all. The pain and suffering. But they also show a part of my history that’ll always be there. I survived. Even in the most jaded times. There is still hope.
I guess that’s all that counts in the end. That you survive.