self-inflicted pain
some days ago i was talking with my sister about the curious live performance of amy winehouse here in lisbon, when she went to the stage completely drunk or stoned (or both). but what we discussed was not her "phase-in, phase out" condition, but rather the bandages covering her wrists. suicide attempt? maybe. maybe not. i know of people who have cut themselves, and while i haven't really tried such a stunt, i believe i can understand what drives someone to do it. through medicine (drugs), one can control a physical pain - morphine, as the last resort. but how can we control a surge of emotional pain? one driven by the loss of someone dear, by the fall of our love, by the betrayal of our dreams? there is no morphine to soothe such a pain, to tears enough to cry for what or who we've lost (assuming one can cry, for not everyone can), no friend close enough to provide comfort. one can sleep, but in the morning the sense of emptiness will still sting. one can reach oblivion by getting drunk, but that never lasts long enough and backfires quite often. in case of a lost love, one can use someone to forget the past, but that's ordinarily a futile attempt, and one that ends up causing way too much damage, usually carrying someone else into our personal chasm. what hurts here is the memory, the breaking of all routines. and it really hurts - memory can be a tremendous gift that we were given, but sometimes it can also become a seemingly unbearable burden.
the self-inflicted pain is a way to reach oblivion. as we cut ourselves we feel our sorrow dissolving in the falling blood. it doesn't necessarily mean that we want to kill ourselves, or that we are looking to gather attention from someone else. no, it's something we do for ourselves, and for ourselves alone. it's nothing to display (even though eventually someone will see it and get the wrong picture). it's something meant to hurt - a controlled pain that is meant to ease a pain that is completely out of control. one might thing that it is an act of desperation. it is. but to live is to despair. and sometimes, despair and recklessness are the only ways we have to keep ourselves from shattering and collapse - both phisically and emotionally.
the self-inflicted pain is a way to reach oblivion. as we cut ourselves we feel our sorrow dissolving in the falling blood. it doesn't necessarily mean that we want to kill ourselves, or that we are looking to gather attention from someone else. no, it's something we do for ourselves, and for ourselves alone. it's nothing to display (even though eventually someone will see it and get the wrong picture). it's something meant to hurt - a controlled pain that is meant to ease a pain that is completely out of control. one might thing that it is an act of desperation. it is. but to live is to despair. and sometimes, despair and recklessness are the only ways we have to keep ourselves from shattering and collapse - both phisically and emotionally.
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