Well, "tried" is a strong word. Most of my persistence came from knowing the blade wasn't sharp enough. I didn't even do it right. I tried cutting across the river, not up. But still the mark stayed with me for a solid twenty-four hours.
All I was thinking about was punishing my mom. The door was closed. The TV was on. It had to be. I didn't want her to hear me crying. I just wanted her to walk in that room and see me dead on the floor. I wanted her to feel the pain she made me feel. I wonder now if she would have even cared. Would my dad have been mad? That she'd driven his daughter to killing herself? Would he have had a strong emotion or had she broken him that bad?
She would have cared about the carpet. I'm sure she would have been mad about the mess. Blood everywhere. Maybe it would have been the excuse she needed to replace it. She hated that carpet. It was dark green. I loved it. It's still my favorite color. It would have hidden the dark stain of blood nicely.
It was the weekend. My mom was there. She was only there on the weekends. How much worse would it have been if she'd been there all the time? It must have been Sunday because I went to school the next day. I hid the indent on my wrist. I wanted someone to find it. I wanted someone to know. I wanted someone to know how much pain I was in. What would have happened if I'd gotten help?
I cry thinking about how bad it was.
I would have saved myself a lot of pain if I'd done it right. If I'd used something sharper. There wouldn't have been panic attacks. I wouldn't have been kicked out of my mom's house when I told her I was moving. I wouldn't have had to say good-bye to my dad, twice, when I left. No broken promise, no realizing I couldn't keep plantseven cactialive for the life of me. I would have been free of my trich and my psychotic fear of lawn mowers and vacuum cleaners. I wouldn't have been afraid of scissors anymore. I wouldn't be overweight and I wouldn't have to deal with eczema so bad it sent me to a doctor. There would be no college debt. No one could have told me I was no good at writing. I wouldn't have rolled my first car and lost the second in a freak accident the morning after Halloween. There'd be no wreck in the snow and no growing fear of white stuff on the ground. I wouldn't have an arch nemesis. I wouldn't have known what it was like to not be able to drink things like a normal person. I would never have worked at Taco Bell. I could've escaped being the empty shell of a person I was. I wouldn't have had to go through six excruciating years of rehab to get over the problems of my youth. I would never have had to realize I didn't actually have friends. I would have escaped my hoarding tendencies and not hurt my sister. I wouldn't have to feel like I could have done something about my cousin's addiction to heroine if I'd just been there for her.
I would have saved myself a lot of pain.
But I would have stolen so much more from myself. I would never have realized I love duck and hate sushi. I would never have started to forget why I hated my mom so much. I would never have realized I did nothing to my sister that I regret, even if she is mad at me. I wouldn't have found out my writing sucked so I could make myself better and become a god. I would never have found Dungeons & Dragons or George R. R. Martin. I wouldn't have fallen in love with The Dresden Files or played Spook. I wouldn't have known what it was like to love someone and be loved in return. I would never have had my first kiss or have a guy ask if he could hold my hand. I wouldn't have been able to fight the trich or my psychotic tendencies. I never would've been able to say I was a security guard with an arch nemesis or find out I love English enough to major in it after all. Baking was never really my thing. I wouldn't have figured out what real friends were. I would never have realized the boy I met online, who I never once met in person, was a passing figure in my life. I couldn't have spent three hours in a UHaul in Vegas or gotten sick off the buffet there, throwing up at a rest stop in Flagstaff in the middle of the night while there was snow on the ground in June. I would never have cut my hair, pierced my ear, or been bold enough to wear clothes with words on them. I wouldn't have found the freedom of Everclear or found out I didn't care for weed. I would never have had the chance to laugh over inside jokes so hard I couldn't breathe. I never would've realized I was no good at idioms. I'd never have found Into the Heart of Darkness or realized I love sun roofs. I would never have been able to mock Jess or watch Whose Line with Jesse. There would have been no Jesse, the worst crime of all. There would never have been any nom, nom, nom! while eating stuff drunk and laughing my ass off. I would never have started cussing. I wouldn't have been doted on by my bosses and roommates for my awesomeness. I would never have seen my dad get back into the dating scene or gotten the satisfaction of knowing the tables had been turned on my mom. I wouldn't have learned my sister moved on from the guy she was with and I wouldn't have had the opportunity to help my family with the cousin crisis. I would never have seen hail bad enough to dent a car or heard the eerie wail of tornado sirens. I would never have felt earthquakes or been to New Orleans. I could never have laughed at the Creationist museum or seen clouds in the distance and mused over how nice it was I could see Mt. Rainier from here
before realizing I was in Oklahoma. I would never have tasted the chicken potstickers from BJ's or found out there was food I couldn't stomach. I wouldn't have discovered Memories of Japan.
I would have stolen so much