Thursday, 2 June 2011

Press Esc

This entry is so emo, you wouldn’t want to read it.


Praying was your last option. You asked the lord to give you the strength to slide that cutter down your wrist. You were not planning to kill yourself. You just wanted to feel something. Or forget something. Well, you could. It’s in your hands.

“Come what may,” you told yourself. As you pulled it down, metal to flesh, you actually heard it cut your skin. You felt the stinging pain… the burning sensation.

But. Whatever. To your surprise, it kinda felt good. It didn’t really hurt that much. You settled on your bed, contemplating on the pain… The pain that was... Burning. Stinging. Throbbing. You raised your hand then licked the wound as your blood trickled down. You had a taste on victory. It wasn’t actually sweet. Nor bitter. It was just right.

Whatever pain you were feeling earlier was materialized. You saw it, felt it, and even tasted it. You almost forgot your point of self-mutilation.

You felt good... Relaxed… You were in another realm. Wanderlust. Every damn thing that concerned you moments ago felt like a dream.

Who is he, anyway?


I do not encourage slashing, cutting, self-harm or whatever. This is just an anecdote I made. And please take note that this isn’t REALLY about me. I’ve been through that stage, true... Okay. Enough said. I respect everyone’s opinion about the topic, okay. No one has the right to judge anybody, anyway. We’re the only one who knows the extent of our own suffering… So.

Idk. Just let me be.

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