I sit on the edge of my bed, feeling completely numb to the world apart from the rumblings growing somewhere deep inside of me. I can feel it. It’s coming. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Don’t get me wrong, I try my best; I focus on my breath, I try to rationalise my thoughts but it’s like trying to grab water, each time it slips from my grasp. The wave is growing now. It’s like it’s angry at me for trying to get away. My foot starts tapping heavily on the ground. I’m trying to shake this off.

But it’s got me now. I can feel it’s grip, firmly surrounding me. Now it starts.

I suddenly stand. I scream and begin to cry uncontrollably. I begin shaking my hands violently, desperately trying to find something to occupy them. I try to tell myself not to panic, but I can’t escape. It’s like trying to run from a tsunami. I sit back down, my hands pulling at my hair. I suddenly slam my hand into my head, trying to knock these thoughts out of me. I can’t breathe.

My thoughts are repetitive and viscious:

“I can’t do this.”

“Please let me die”

“I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Please, let me die.”

But I don’t want to die. I just don’t ever want to feel like this again. It’s like drowning in your own emotions, miles from shore, desperately trying to stay afloat. The more you fight, the more exhausted you become, and the harder it gets to survive.

Soon the numbness sets in. I begin to lose all feeling. The tears stop. On autopilot I reach into my drawer and pull out the razor head I hid weeks ago. Next thing I know is it’s done. I begin to feel it. I don’t even remember doing it but I feel it. I feel the sharp pain in my leg, but it’s distant like it’s someone else’s body, not mine. But it is mine.

“Shit, I’ve done it again.”

But I don’t care. Not now. I just need this to stop. No matter what it takes.

I sit back, examining the fresh marks on my leg, trying to recall how they got there. I know, but I don’t remember. I’m exhausted. It’s done now. Just like a tsunami, the waters return to their calm stillness. You wouldn’t even know anything had happened if it weren’t for the destruction left in its wake, and a few small red lines on my legs.

Lorna

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