Release
Wednesday, Feb. 18, 2004, 4:45 P.M.

As I look down at my arm, I notice something different today. I don't see cuts, I don't see pain. I don't even want to see it. Instead I see, color. I see blue ink that states things that I have always desired to say about my self. It states things that can not be said in words. It states my emotions, on more than one topic more than once, it is great. As she sits in the same room. The one that was closed. The one she thought she would never have to return to. The place that she always fears, weather that be going back to it or just the very thought of it makes her quiver in fear. But for what ever reason she is there. She is feeling the fear again, she is feeling the pain all over again. She is feeling unloved all over again. She is feeling the cold metal of the knife touch her skin, and release. Its all over. The feeling is gone. Its done. Was it worth it for the few seconds of high? The pain she feels after, does it even its self out? Does it make up for it? She pulls her sleeve up farther for more of this high, more of this form of release.