Seven Cuts

There’s nothing.
Nothing to hold on to while the current takes me.
Whatever I might have had until today, I’ve lost.
I feel my love for her, swelling; bloating into something that’s about to explode, like an abscess that’s been allowed to rot for too long, but the pain drowns it so completely I know I’m never coming back out. This feeling, that you’re choking and that your body is underwater, immersed in the ocean, a dense flood that overpowers your breathing abilities, and your will to survive gets drowned right along with it. And as I’m drowning I see her face and hear her voice—and it doesn’t give me hope, it terrifies me. I’m terrified because I know she’s going to be the death of me. I’m terrified because I know I won’t be able to cope. I’m terrified because the darkness is the only true friend I’ve ever had and if it wants to embrace me I don’t have the power to make it stop.
I was there, Andy. I was there when no one else was there.
I was there when they wrote ‘fag’ in scrawling script on your locker in permanent black ink so you couldn’t erase it no matter how much you tried, I was there.
I was there when your mom slapped your around because you spilled food all over the floor and the guests were about to arrive.
I was there when your dad looked at you for the last time and didn’t even say goodbye.
I was there when they tried to humiliate you in front of the entire school, I was there.
I was there when they took you aside after school hours and beat you up and when you came back home you never even told Matt what happened but he should have known, you had cuts and bruises all over, but Matt was too preoccupied with his own shit to care about you. Either that or he was tired of being the guy who saved your ass the whole time.
I was there, Andy.
I was there when you found out the truth about Heather and her empty, hollow promises.
I was there when your so-called ‘friends’ didn’t even show up for your funeral. Oh wait, that one hasn’t happened yet.
Anyway.
I need you now, Andy.
And you have to be there, quid pro quo and all that.
And I know the cutting helped you until now, but it won’t anymore.
Pain has become your addiction.
And like any addiction, it will take you, sooner or later; it’s just a matter of time.
Today, no matter how deep you make the cut, it won’t be enough.
It won’t keep us apart.
The darkness is right.
The pain I feel from the razor blade doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling inside so it’s useless because the equation is messed up: because razor blade pain should be equal to or greater than the heartache, that’s just CUTTING 101. And if it’s not—well you’re fucked, my friend. It was nice knowing you, but you know what time it is?
It’s time to let to let the darkness in.
Quid pro quo and all that.
It’s time to find something more agonizing than the touch of the blade.

Notes