Pain is a lot, and it's hard to overcome. I don't know how I'm going to deal with this hurt. At 15 everyone says its normal. But I know that this is not how the everyday teenager feels, or does. I don't know if this poem will relate to, or mean anything to anyone who reads it. But its me trying to find my voice... find my way out.
Confusion And Pain
I never asked for pain, tears, or suffering.
I was normal at one point in life.
I was full of smiles, laughter, and happiness.
I wish I knew the cause of this change in my life, find a way to make it all stop.
It all began when I was 13 years of age.
It was a gnawing, a tug, a dark thing pulling me under.
I screamed in silence, and tried to deal with it all on my own.
Countless tears had fallen, and many sleepless nights had passed.
A lonely day at home lead me to explore.
Just walking around, looking, and thinking.
I was thinking about life, and about hurting.
It was then when I found the box cutter.
A small rectangle, with a deadly sharp edge, an edge that I thought would make my life better.
I hid in my room, lost, and alone.
I could hear distant laughter from my family downstairs, a family I have disappointed, and hurt.
It was the thoughts of not being good enough for them that reminded me of the box cutter I had found.
I sat in the corner of my room and wondered if this little blade could solve my problems.
I stretched out my arm in front of me, and put the edge to my wrist. I was scared, but something was giving me that nudge, that thought that if I cut myself, all the pain would go away.
As the crimson poured out, it was as if the dark thing inside me was satisfied, the pain was numbing.
Over time, it had gotten worse.
When I started high school, I was on the verge of killing myself, thinking of ways to do it, ways to make it easy, and how to cause the least pain to my friends and family.
The little demon inside me had awakened.
I sat there with a friend and carved into my arms with a piercing needle.
I had never seen so much blood, but couldnít feel better.
It was then when my teachers had noticed, and called my mom.
She brought me to the closest ER. I underwent psychiatric examinations; I was being tested for every mental illness from A-Z.
I had gotten defensive and angry. Refused being looked at, examined, and refused to take pills, or undergo counseling.
It makes me wonder, a year later if itís going to happen again.
It gets harder to deal with my emotions, and being a hormonal teenager doesnít help.
Iíve turned to drugs, alcohol to make myself forget.
Forget the hurt, the pain, the suffering that Iím going through and that I have caused.
I think the thing that I regret most, is how much Iíve hurt my mom.
Iíve been nothing but selfish, and have walked over her, and if I keep it up, I know she wonít be there for me when I need her most.
I just wish I knew what to do, what path to turn to.
I need to find something to numb the pain permanently, a way to make the demon go away forever.
Iím afraid of what will happen, if I donít get help soonÖ