being fourteen

being age fourteen was a horrible time for me.
my grades were low,
i was detached from my friends,
my mum was trying to help me learn in all the wrong ways.
i self harmed for the first time that year.
i remember the object, i remember the hour, i remember the reasons.
i even remember where the scar was placed.
it’s healed enough now that no one would know, but i know.

in that year, i experimented with what i could hurt myself with:
a knife,
a blade,
a compass,
a ruler,
my nails,
you.

2 thoughts on “being fourteen

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s