i’ve been a bit busy as of late, what with ramadan and eid, so excuse my lack of updating, lots of love and happy eid 💕
she ran the sharp metal blades along her wrist, gently at first, as though she was terrified of cutting herself too deep, of damaging herself further. for a moment, she contemplated abandoning her self destructive intentions, she almost did, but then she felt an uneasiness otherwise associated with pain and she was reminded of the beauty of emotions, she sucked in a sharp breath, trying to suppress the stinging of the thin wounds that now graced her pale wrists, again, she thought, again, now deeper and slower, savor every flinch, every flicker of pain, every sensation, all of it, her voice of reason quickly arose from the very depths of her twisted brain, it reprimanded her, do not do this, do not do this, you do not want your friends interrogating you, don’t. don’t. dont. don’t. she was torn trying to provide for the temporary mental relief and the permenant physical wellness. A human body was incapable of containing both her longing for safety and such dangerous and toxic thoughts. and so compromises were to be made, pain was to be inflicted, and skin was to be scarred
why, Melody, why do you hurt yourself like that?
Melody has been asked this by her boyfriend of 2 years multiple times, and the overwhelming nature of the raw emotions that overcame her near dysfunctional brain at the mention of the reasoning behind her hastily made decisions kept her from doing her numbness justice. but now that she was confined to the four walls that have contained her turmoil of emotions for as long as she can remember, answers came to her like moths did to light, her scars were like the elegant lines and swirls of a paintbrush on a canvas, thin and soft, they told a story of pain and torture, a story of long forgotten emotions, and to her, they were beautiful, they were wrong in every sense, but all the more beautiful. melody didn’t care, she liked her brain, she liked her misery, she INDULGED in her misery, she didn’t identify as a mentally unstable person, she liked the way she was, the voices in her head were the only voices she’d heard for the last few weeks, her voice was rusty and thick from misuse, and the voices were now reassuring rather than unsettling. a soft melody sounded through her door, a door which did little to conceal her earth shattering wails, and her body immediately responded, bending and swaying to the tune, her arms moved graciously, accentuating her curves, she danced until the air was knocked out of her lungs, until spots littered her peripheral vision, and she drifted into a deep slumber, a dangerous smile gracing her pink chapped lips, she was broken beyond fixing, and that made her different and beautiful.