Down the Rabbit Hole

Before we begin, let me tell you that this was written in a blog post format, and this was also written not in the intent to encourage the action in the blog post. But in order to vent some feelings from a FICTIONAL character. Depression is a very serious subject, and the things talked about in this post are serious. Please, do not take it lightly. Now, let's begin with the story of how one girl discovered something she thought was going to help her, but leads her down a dark, dark rabbit hole.

03:49

All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe, it felt like someone… or something… had pulled me into a very, very deep lake. It was cold and dark, I couldn’t see anything. I tried to scream and yell. But nothing came out, but water and lots of it. I can feel it filling up my lungs, and fast. So, this is what it’s like to drown. This is what it’s like to be completely powerless to the forces around me... Powerless to the thing holding me at the bottom. I felt my brain finally start to shut down, as my eyes became extremely droopy, and my body completely limp. I was giving up, giving up my life here on this hell hole we call earth.

Bang bang bang. I jump up out of bed, looking around my room. I came to the realization that it was all just a dream. But was it bad that I hoped it wasn’t? When I crawled into my bed last night, I prayed (to whatever the hell is up there) to not wake up. Unfortunately, my reality was far, far worse than the nightmares. I mean, at least in my nightmares I died at the end.

As I rolled out of bed I looked around my room for any signs as to what the banging was. I quickly looked at my clock, it wasn’t even 3. My stomach’s killing me, I haven’t eaten in days. You can thank my “mother” for that. She’s the one that put the damn lock on my door, to lock me in. Lock me into what though? Into my own hell? She’s invaded my privacy, she’s locked me in. She’s taken away everything that would make me… well... me. Sometimes I blame her for everything. I blame her for the assault, for the hate, for the personal hell. I blame her for Ana, but I know it’s all bullshit. She’s made sure that I know that the only person who can affect my brain and attitude is myself. I did this to myself. But I know I deserve it.

It’s at this point, I can feel the tears starting. I can feel the sting in my heart, I can feel the hatred for myself start in my chest. And start to travel into my bones, and I can’t stop this fucking shaking. It’s like I’ve been locked outside in 30 degree weather, and I feel like someone punched me in my chest, wait, no, that would probably be less painful. My lungs have forgotten how to work, and all I can do is sit here gasping for air; just like in my dream. But at this moment, it’s real. I can feel the tears, I can feel the loneliness welling up in me. Suddenly, I wish it wasn’t. I wish there was a way I could stop it all, a way to make the pain go away. I can’t do this anymore, I need some way to get out. I need a way to take back control, what she took away. And through tear soaked eyes, I look over and there it is, sitting perfectly still on my nightstand. My savior. My drug. My escape from this horrible reality. Who would’ve thought a piece of metal would mean so much to me? Who would’ve thought that the cheerleader with “the prettiest smile” would be the one to… I can’t even type it. It’s almost like it’s not real. But nowadays it’s hard for me to tell what’s real and what isn’t.

As I lean over to my nightstand, I can feel my heart start to race with excitement. I can feel my body start to stop shaking, too bad my hands can’t get the message. I picked up the plastic razor and start to tear it to pieces little by little. Cause heaven knows that I’m going to get that single piece no matter what it takes. No. Matter. What. Then, with great relief, it cracks under my pressure and gives in to my desire. For a few minutes, I just here and stare at it. I expected it to be a little bit bigger, a little bit more Tumblr. But here it is, just a little, thin piece of metal. It’s skinnier than a piece of paper, but I can anticipate how amazing it will feel.

I know I deserve this. I know I don’t deserve to even be alive, but for some reason, I’m too scared to die. I just need my body to match my soul. And maybe if I can just cut enough, or hard enough then I’ll actually cut my soul out of my body. Then she can’t hurt me anymore, she won’t have that control over you anymore. But where should I? I don’t want anyone to know that I did this, I don’t want anyone to know how bad it actually is. And I most definitely don’t want her to know she got to me. The most obvious place would be my arm, but wouldn’t that be basic? Wouldn’t that be noticeable? So, what about my thigh? But I have a game tomorrow, I have to wear my skirt. But wait, that means I also have to wear my long-sleeved undershirt. My arm would be perfect, no one would see or notice. It’ll probably be healed by Monday.

I can see the light reflecting off of it as I’m holding it to my warm skin. My hands won’t stop shaking. They can’t stop shaking, I won’t let them. Here we go, I’m pressing down on the metal, and begin to slice down my arm in a very slow motion. Ouch! It hurts, but also feels just so relieving? The blood starts to form into little beads, and I can’t help but be so fascinated by it; the color is absolutely stunning. My hands, still shaking, go in for another. And another. And another. With each and every new cut, new beads start to form and the shaking slowly stops. Eventually, my hand puts the metal back down on my nightstand.

Here I am, with blood dripping down off my arm, tears dripping off my face. But I haven’t felt this good in a LONG time. I haven’t felt this relieved in a LONG time. I felt almost… almost alive. As I’m gathering my thoughts around this new, unfamiliar feeling I reach for a blanket to clean up the mess I had created. I figure I’ll just bandage it up in the morning when my “mother” unlocks my door and I can roam the house again.

The first thing I knew I had to do was come on here and write this out. I knew I had to tell everyone, or no one, of this beautiful drug I’ve discovered in a storm of feelings. Who knew that our own blood would be so comforting? Who knew that something so simple as a line on your arm would release so much tension? Well, it’s almost 4 in the morning now. I better try and lay down, and try to get some sleep.

Until next time,

Isabelle