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I swore I wouldn’t.
Told the mirror a thousand times,
That this time would be different.
This time I’d hold in the sadness and anger without drowning.
But the past nights,
My hands remembered the language they forgot how to forget.
I sat in silence while the ache translated itself into line,
No one else would ever read.
They say it’s all just an act.
“Its just for attention “
“Your faking it”
“Your not actually gonna do it lol”
But it wasn’t for attention,
It never was meant to be for attention.
It was quite the opposite.
It was just me disappearing,
Carefully,
Quietly,
Slowly,
Like a secret scream.
I lit candles afterward,
Like grief could be disguised as atmosphere.
Just like if the room looked soft enough,
It might not notice,
What I’d done.
I just curled into myself,
The way a body does when it’s trying to disappear,
Without leaving.
I whisper,
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“You said this was the last time.”
“You promised so many people.”
I whispered these thoughts over and over,
As if repetition could rewind time,
As if shame had an undo button.
Nothing answered me though,
Expect the silence.
And the sting. 
And the mirror that wouldn’t meet my glossy,
Red,
Numb,
Puffy,
Eyes.
I swear I didn’t wanna do it.
God, I didn’t want to.
I wanted to be stronger than the ache,
I wanted to be louder than the sadness,
But sadly the weight was louder.
I broke beneath it,
Like I always feared I would.
I wrapped myself in the quiet all the time,
Because sound was way to sharp,
Too clean for what I’d done.
The walls never judge,
But they watched every inch,
They watched as I made long lasting scars on my body.
Every crack in the ceiling suddenly sharper than the breaths I couldn’t catch.
I always wanna text someone.
But I can never bring myself to do it.
Why?
Because what would I say?
How would that make them feel?
I’ll be to annoying texting them about it.
“Hey, I broke again.”
“Hey, I failed you.”
What if they ask how to help me.
I don’t even know how to help myself. 
How am I supposed to answer to that.
So instead of texting anybody,
I just lay there,
Broken,
Sad,
Drained,
Exhausted,
Tired of life.
I tuck the ache behind my ribs like a second heartbeat. 
One that only beats when I’m alone.
I just stare.
Stare into the ceiling.
I tried to promise myself,
I’d never do it again.
But I’ve made that vow more times than anyone should have to. 
Each time the world just keeps spinning,
Like it doesn’t care nor understand I’m barely holding on.
I want to live.
Some days I do.
Some days I really do wanna live.
But lately,
I just wanted to stop hurting,
I wanted the sadness to go away.
And I don’t know if that makes me weak or just tired.
I sat on my bed.
Rethinking life.
The evidence was already gone.
Bloody tissues thrown away.
The blade.
That stays.
You know what else stays.
The guilt.
The guilt stayed like smoke in my throat.
Thick,
Unshakable.
I kept touching my left thigh like I was trying to take back through skin alone.
I always imagined someone standing in the doorway.
Seeing what I did.
Seeing how much I’ve damage I’ve done to myself. 
I hated myself for making them ever worry.
For being the reason someone might cry and say.
“I thought you were getting better.”
“You promised no more.”
“You said you were going to throw them out.”
I was.
I was,
Until I wasn’t.
Isn’t that worse somehow?
To have tried,
To have almost made it.
Only to fall again,
In a way that feels selfish,
And cowardly,
And unforgivable all at once.
I don’t want to meet my own reflection.
Not because of the pain,
Because of the disappointment.
I promised myself,
I’d never make someone else feel hopeless again.
But here I am,
Undoing every,
“Oh I’m okay.
“ yeah I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
With this one mistake the now feels like a scar pressed into someone else’s hands to.
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