The first time I cut myself I couldn’t go through with it,
It was supposed to be a straight line across my wrist
Just like the article said.
But I cut it barely halfway and started yelping in pain,
But for a moment, the pain coursing through my body made me forget the pain etched into my heart.
The second time I cut myself, I went all the way.
They said I had a lot of sugar in my blood and I was pre-diabetic.
‘Well everyone who isn’t diabetic is pre-diabetic. The difference between you and them is that diabetes is expecting you.’
I saw my dark red blood surge out of the line on my wrist.
But there were no sugar granules.
The third time I cut myself, a boy broke my heart.
It wasn’t that I was depressed that he did,
It was that I needed to do something to make me feel alive.
Heard of the saying: “Blood is life”?
Well, the pain was live!
The last time I cut myself was two years ago,
Except from when I clumsily dice carrots for Fried Rice.
I stopped cutting myself because I realized that
1. The pain from cutting is too painful for it to be so temporary
2. The gain from cutting is too temporary for it to be so painful
3. Wearing long sleeve all the time cannot work in Nigerian weather
4. Razor blades just became cliché
5. Jesus had his skin sliced so I wouldn’t have to go through that.