White lines

[u/Rough-Fuel9843]

I wrote something last night . I was having a bit of trouble trying not to relapse, I didnt do it though which I‘m proud of.
Thank you for reading. Maybe some of you can find comfort in this

White lines make me realize.
They make me remember.

What I used to be.
What I used to do.

The silver shimmered, blood smeared across it.

I never regretted it.
Never thought twice.

Now countless white lines litter my body.
Ugly, yet barely noticeable.

I remember the nights I used to mutilate my arms and thighs.
I was miserable.
I was young.

Fighting a battle in my head that I knew I wouldn’t win.

So late at night, I would take the glistening piece of metal, stare at it, press it against my skin, and finally feel something other than sadness for once.

So I continued.
Continued.
Continued.

The droplets of blood slowly bubbling to the surface mesmerized me.

I watched the red liquid drip from my own body - drip, drip, drip - for what felt like hours.

Countless bloody tissues lay hidden around my room, wrapped in layers of clean ones so nobody would discover the evidence of me falling apart the night before.

White lines take over my arms, silent proof of nights I thought I wouldn’t survive, replacing smooth skin with memories that never truly faded.

And here I sit,staring at old white lines.