Pain killer

From the diary of a skin cutter......


Tears must come out,
 somehow anyhow,
let it be from the skin,
let it be red,
let it sting a little or more,

fortunate people are able to cry, rest cut themselves…
I don’t know from where I picked it up but I curse that instance of my life.
I remember that night like it happened just a moment ago,
I had lost myself in every battle of life…
exams, relationships everything.
I shared moments of laugh with my father at dining table, dad made me forgot everything, he always does.
But when I returned in my bedroom, darkness followed. As if a negative vibe is pushing me inside from my back.
I let myself fall on the bed and turned on the air to minimum temperature, I needed a cold surrounding, cold and harsh, like a dead graveyard, I tried to sleep but no, not anymore, it was gone, the ability to fall asleep was no more there.
questions were falling from the sky on me like bricks. How can I clear those dues, why don’t I get the grace that everyone does? Why a single mark flips my life?
 How can I go to abroad for my masters now?  What will dad think about me?

 Why the one I desire always slip out of my destiny? Why the one who became my passion never noticed my feelings towards her? Why does it have to be so complicated? After trying again and again why I am still far away from the first step of togetherness? 

I am a murderer of hopes, expectations, believe and trust.

 Those questions wrapped me inside like a coffin.

I tried to breathe but couldn’t help it anymore.
I touched my heart and didn’t felt a single beat no more.

I tried to cry I tried to scream but the silence was all I could afford,
sobs and weeps were vanished from my eyes.

all I did was took a blade and started carving rough lined over my wrist,
over and over till I realized its alive, my wrist was bleeding and the skin was burning, I felt the pain, I felt the life getting tortured.
I got what I wanted. I punished myself for being a sinner.

 The very next morning when I woke up, my wrist was all swollen up. I thought I have made a fool out of myself. I covered the wounds with a sports band and went to college somehow.

While riding the bike, I could feel the sun on my wrist, as if the sun was made only to suffer my wounds some more.
The sports band worsened the condition with sweat and that worked as salt on the dish.

College, I couldn’t relate to anything in that place. It became a foreign place to me. friends, teachers, classmates, I couldn’t make a difference between any of them. They were all just a mass for me. a bunch of bees stinging me again and again with questions that I had no answer for.

I left college and went back to my home, when I saw my wounds healing, I carved few more.
I was in pain but the pain was sugary.
it just,  how shall I explain,
it just took me high,
with every cut, I felt better,
the wounds started to hurt me from outside,
but heal me from inside.
I could sleep peacefully.

The questions hovering inside,
hurts me, I suffocate,

leaves me with curse and sores,
makes me dull, unfortunate,

I mark memories on my hands my soul,
few moments, my intimates

I cry grief and blood,
to breathe , to liberate

I lust the tears I used to have,
so warm, so passionate

I bleed and bleed till empty
till soul and sand separate…….