My fingers pale from the pressure.
I push a sharp point against my skin,
Looking at my wrist with glazed eyes.
Prepared to pierce my skin and penetrate a vein,
My life flashes before my eyes.
First come happy memories:
I am six and playing with our kittens;
I am eight and talking to my best friend on the phone.
Now the memories I dread creep in, controlling my thoughts:
I hear yelling and swearing ringing in my ears;
I am frightened as I watch my mother break things.
I try to comfort myself:
The older I get, the better I cope with these things,
I learned to keep my cool, right?
Wrong. I keep things bottled up inside;
They are about to burst out into the open;
I will finally have to deal with them--or perhaps I won't?
I can feel the terrible pain as I watch,
Anticipating the moment the glass will
Slice into the barrier my skin creates.
It's like a movie…
My life flashes before my eyes, and then I die, right?
Wait, there is something wrong.
I realize exactly why my life flashed before my eyes so quickly.
It’s not because I am about to die,
No, that's not why it was so brief…
It was brief because my life has been short…
I am only twelve years old…still a little girl…
I drop the piece of glass and weep.
Not because of what I almost did…
But because it isn't the first time I tried…
And it won't be the last.