My Own

I wandered along the streets. The wind was cold, and pinched my cheeks, causing me to rub them. It was truly freezing, and the small jacket I was wearing did nothing to keep me warm. I blinked back tears, fearing that it was so cold that they would freeze on my cheeks. Then I couldn't help laughing at the silly notions that often ran through my head. Why was I laughing anyway? I should be wallowing. I wanted to be wallowing. He had cheated on me, with my best friend. He had told me again and again that he loved me, and I had even confided in him about my cutting. And my best friend? I had told her, too. The only people who knew how scared and vulnerable I was had used this against me. They didn't love me, neither of them did. They preferred each other's company. And that was fine by me. I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone.

"Feel my angst,
Deep within me,
Feed my strength,
Your words are empty."

Nobody knew who I really was anymore. I wasn't prepared to open up and show anyone who I was inside. I was so scared, so lonely, so tired of being me. I was always the one who got hurt in the end. But not anymore. Things were going to change. From now on, nobody was ever going to get close enough to me to find out what ran through my head. Nobody would ever learn enough about me to be able to hurt me.

"Look inside and you will see,
Break inside, break inside."

The only person who was ever going to hurt me from then on, I decided, was myself. Despite the chilly air, I pushed up my sleeve, and examined my newest cuts. They were still red and swollen, and so they should have been as I had only made them two hours before. The knife was the only way I had left to vent all the pain now. My boyfriend didn't love me. My best friend didn't care. Who else was there to talk to? Nobody. Nobody but the voices in my head, and they were growing stronger and stronger, taking over my thoughts and feelings. It was as though I was living with several different people, several different sides of me. And some of them weren't even me, I was sure of that. They were too angry, too pained to be the scared little girl that hid inside.

"I am my own,
And that's something to me,
I've grown too strong,
To be under your feet."

Would I ever heal enough to love and to let myself be loved again? I doubted it, and suddenly I felt like crying again. But I was almost determined to seal off my heart from the world, to stop any hurt getting in or out. I would never cry again. Ever. I would never show any sign of weakness. I would become the stone goddess, beautiful and mysterious, flawless... until my skin was seen. Then my hidden coping skills would become clear. And people would turn and run again, unable to cope with that which they did not understand.

"See the hands,
That try to hold me,
Read the past,
I never was free."

I hated the lack of control I felt. I gently touched the knife again, which I had brought with me in my jacket pocket. It gave me an uncertain sense of security, of well-being. As though nothing would ever spiral out of my control so long as I could see and touch that sharp, shiny blade. It was an obsession. I knew it was, and there was nothing I could do about it anymore. I didn't want to do anything about it. I needed that knife and the release it could give me more than I needed to breathe.

"Deeds of shame,
The world around me,
Know my pain,
The world that I see."


The lyrics in this fiction were not written by me. They are taken from "My Own" by Soil, a fantastic band who's work often precisely reflects my emotions.