Tonight, I cry before I even begin cutting. I disassemble the razor. It’s always a bitch to get the silver sliver of salvation out of its plastic restraints. Fresh tears well up in my eyes and overflow, when the blade falls into my lap. I stare at it, feeling anxious.

It’s a pressure in my chest area-it pushes outward, crushing my sternum. I can’t breathe. My eyes are hot with tears again. I feel something similar to pins and needles over my entire body and I know that I will cut soon.

What is it, I wonder to myself. Why, exactly, do I do this?  -No-Why do I have to do this?

I can’t remember the exact moment in which this became a part of my true-self. My false true-self.

What is real and who am I? Am I crazy?

-Tears seep from my eyes-

Really…am I fucking crazy?

I think I must be.

SURRENDER