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River Runs Red
I will not do it today.
My arms feel like they're on fire all the time.
The pain reminds me that I'm alive.
I will not do it today.
I will eat some food instead today.
I have to change the dressings too.
That's it, change the dressings first, then eat.
I feel good today.
I hum a little tune as I tenderly unwrap the pristine white bandages from
my arm.
Ahhh, the pad is stuck to the cuts on my forearm. It peels away slowly,
beads of bright red blood form quickly as the pad lifts, exquisite pain
fills my soul, pulsing waves, cleansing, healing.
The beads coalesce soon into a stream.
A tiny river of red slowly makes its way along my arm towards my elbow as
I lift up my hand, inspect another long scab on the back side.
The river is slightly diverted by the hairs on my arm which are standing
up in anticipation.
I will not do it today,
The fresh scab looks soft and weak. I pull at each side ever so gently, it
opens just the slightest bit. A short canyon of opened flesh fills slowly
with red blood. It seeps over the lip and hurries to join the river on its
way down my arm.
I close my eyes against the burning soreness.
It's a sort of sticky, wet soreness that confirms my existence. Without it
I am nothing. Without it I melt away into nothingness.
I pick up the razor blade. It is never far away.
I start just below my elbow, in the tender skin between the bone and the
muscle of my forearm.
I hold the razor just above the skin, savour the moment before I must make
the cut.
I feel alive.
I feel the pain as the blade cuts into my eager flesh.
A new river flows to meet the first, I watch, mesmerised as the drips form
a continuous stream to the white sink below, contrast, red on white, real
colours. They remind me that I'm real.
It eventually slows, then stops. I wrap my arm in new, sterilised
dressings. The fire builds, I feel so alive.
Tomorrow, tomorrow I will stop.
Tomorrow......
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