Dead Bugs: What Goes On Inside the Head of a Self Harmer

I've been wanting to write about self harm for a while but I wasn't sure what to do. I thought about telling my story, the stories of others or just a simple Myth v. Fact post(I love writing those) but I tried and it didn't fit. I was writing things about self harm that had been written over an over again. At work today I thought of an idea, what if I let my self harm speak for itself? Self harm is a voice. Maybe not a literal voice that you can hear with your ears, its not even one your hear in your head. It speaks in scars, long sleeves and hidden band aids.  I don't mind typing like this because honestly, its really nice. Its nice to get these thoughts and memories out of my system. This won't have a bunch of photos, flashy graphics. Just words.  This is highly triggering to anyone who has self harmed. I'm not sugar coating anything. I'm not suicidal(I've never been suicidal), I don't want to die(I never did) I just want to show how self harm can be from inside someones head. Lets begin.

I don't remember the first time I cut but I remember a bit how it started.  One of my friends was doing it and another girl showed me her scars. Just two or three tiny scars. God, I was stronger than her. I could do better. I could do better than all of them. Fucking weaklings. I was stronger than them. I could push a tack into my wrist deeper than any of them. They can't hurt me, only I have that power. Their circle chanting, fuck them. They don't know, they don't understand.
I'm weak
They saw me cry
I let them break me
Oh god
I've got a houseful of dull pencils and confused looks about where the metal went. Its hidden under a CD, under a pillow, in the dead of night. She's so weak, she's sleeps, I'm stronger than her, then why? Why am I ignored? If I'm prettier than her then why am I alone? Why am I the one who dances alone? Feeling isolated, I'm alone forever.
Maybe this isn't about control because everything around me is a fever dream. School books, grades and hall ways. Nothing is real, I can't trust. I tired. I stopped. I stopped for months because how do you hide a secret that is all over your body? And then I was alone but I wasn't because it was more than just cutting.
This was a love affair
An illegal meeting
A relationship that no one knew I had
A silver romance
A trusting blood
My own
Pain is real
Even if nothing else is

I have a job now, why do I still do this? God I'm so fucking stupid, I'm so slow, I'm so behind, I'm so lost. My legs burn. No one knows because how could I tell? They would think I'm crazy, I'm not. How else can I cope? Deception around me and work is my escape and I'm fading away from it again. A fucking septic tank full of metal and static and broken promises and bloody paper that I had to hide. A question asked about missing Band Aids and I can't answer because how can I? My friends are all adults now, adults don't do this shit!
But now I have a life to save
An ungrateful one who leaves me alone
My silver lover, come to me, my blood is my only kiss, your blade is my embraces. Please notice, please care. I'm pouring waterfalls, long sleeves and leggings can't hide my eyes. The water is a demon and the cyber is heaven, I am alone and that's okay.
They tell you to draw butterflies and name them after someone and if you cut the butterfly dies and you can't cut until they fade away. But soon you're full of marker burns and dead bugs and you cant fly away because you don't wash away like them.
Just one release.
Please, my lover
Sing to me
Bleed me to sleep
And we'll play chicken together.
And now, everyone knows. Its not a secret. Its public whisper talk and I don't care but that makes it worse. More promises and recovery
Oh god
Recovery
What am I without my silver lover?
My perfect red princess?
I have a new lover, a real lover that isn't metal but just as strong and I have to promise
I have to get better
You can't run from the past but I don't wanna drink with it. Scars fade away and covered by colors brighter than blood could produce and its wonderful and its great but I can't understand because my body is a weapon. I can cut my nails but I cant pull my teeth. I chew my mouth in anger and notice nothing until the blood.  All your favorite stars, music and movies tell you to do without it and that you can do it but you know they don't know because they don't know you.

Why?
My friends moved on
For them it was a phase, for me its a ten year struggle that I don't understand. Why am I weaker than them.
Why?
Its not a lover anymore. Its not a cold embrace, its a dizzy static abusive ex lover than breaks your rips and they do what they want because you are not you.
You have no control
You are nothing
FUCKING NOTHING
FAILURE
WEAK
YOU'RE NOT DIFFERENT
You're hands aren't yours and your shaking and you grab what you can find for just a drag and the blood sprouts like a rose to spring only its a dead flower and it barely counts and you go looking for anything, something that goddamn lover has you and you have to listen because everything is numb and your dying and this is the only way you can save your self
Looking back its a slow motion dream and you don't know why you broke and your a liar
FUCKING LIAR
You haven't changed
You're that same, pitiful emo girl only you didn't grow up
Your friends moved on why cant you?
Why are you 23 hiding in the bathroom all alone?
FUCKING WHY?
 Everyone around says they will support but when the numb takes you and that silver bitch beats on your heart you can't do anything and you lose control and your body finds it way to something until you start hiding things from yourself. You avoid your triggers but you carry a gun. You're scars are gone and everything is okay,today it was okay but not every day is
Can you recover?
Or do you learn to live without and just ignore?
How do you recover when everything's a weapon?
Some times its better and sometimes its worse
But its hard it admit that relapse is a curse
Its effects us all for better or worse
Its not a broken promise
And I promise that I'm trying
I can't drink it away, I can't sleep with my pain. Recovery sucks, addiction is worse. 
This is the truth, that nobody writes. Its more than just stop. I wish it was a button that you could just turn off. Like a lover you don't just move on. Its not that simple. The hardest part? Having good memories of bad things. Looking back on your life and hating that it was your strongest coping technique for years.  It started out as a personal contest and I think I won but I'm not sure if you win something like this.  Its an ongoing fight. I could add another verse, another line, another paragraph but I don't want to repeat whats already been said.

This is self harm. Raw and honest. This is what its like inside the head of someone who is struggling or has struggled with self harm.  Recovering is not an easy battle and its much easier to stay addicted than to try and get better. I plan on writing more about self harm but I don't know if I'll write like this again. I hope that this helps opens someones eyes to what self harm is really like.