Cut Cut Cut Pt. 2

I'm writing this in pieces, because it almost hurts too much to talk about it all at once. This may be my story, but it isn't an easy one to tell. 






After my 9:05 AM emergence, and seeing my roommates, I went back to bed.
But I didn't do anything. I tried laying back down, but that didn't help. I just rolled around and thought.

I thought bad thoughts, terrible thoughts. My mind was racing. I'd taken my medication, so why weren't they working?

Ceilingceilingceilingceilingceilingceiling


Why wouldn't they stop?

LamplamplamplamplamplamplamplamplampPhonephonephonephonephonephonephonephonephoneShoeshoeshoeshoeshoeshoeshoeshoeshoeshoeshoeDoordoordoordoordoordoordoordoordoordoordoordoordoor


Things just kept repeating. Echoing in my mind, reverberating off the inside of my skull. The voices were at a dull roar. 


I sobbed quietly as I walked out of my room, my own mind driving me crazy. Torrents of words, sounds, all repeating.

Cutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcut


This had happened before, the Tuesday earlier. It had been so scary, this repeating. But it kept going.
I stumbled down the hallway, and into the kitchen area. I turned in a circle, crying, hugging myself as tightly as I could.

I was lonely, I was hurting. I wanted to reach out. I wanted someone to help me take my pain away.

But there was no one I could call.

I couldn't call my roommates, or my adviser. I couldn't call anyone. No. This pain was mine. This pain was only for me to deal with, to suffer with. 

It was tearing me apart. 

I looked around our living room in bewilderment, taking in the tree, the couches, the TV. And I cried. 

Then I tried, tried to pull myself together. But I couldn't. My mind and heart shattered then, into a million pieces. I couldn't do it anymore. 

Cutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcut

So I walked to the fridge, opened the freezer, and calmly took out a strawberry Toaster Strudel. It was a sudden switch, that I was only vaguely aware of. But I had switched, into a persona I can now identify as Mean Lauren. 

This secret part of me, that had always said mean things, had mean thoughts, and carried out mean acts had taken over, and I was an unwilling audience to this little show. 

Mean Lauren [ML for short] calmly cooked the Toaster Strudel, mind set on what she would do next. While waiting, ML walked down the hallway, and into the bathroom. 

"How to do this," ML muttered, using my hands, my hands, to open up the shower curtain. My feet to step inside the shower, and then pick up the razor, examining it, and nodding with grim satisfaction as she set her plan into motion. 

Cutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcut

She walked back out into the kitchen, noting with a degree of happiness that the pastry had popped up. Almost jovially, ML set about finishing the Toaster Strudel, and then making a cup of hot tea, merrily carrying both back into my bedroom. 

In the back of my mind, where I was watching, I wondered: What the hell is going on here?! I have no control! She wants to hurt me! Make her stop!

But ML just continued on, watching Johnny Test on Cartoon Network as if this were normal; as if planning to cut yourself and eating breakfast are normal occurrences that should be taken care of in the same morning. 

You've talked about this enough, so we're going to do it, ML said conversationally, within my head.
W-what?, I replied.
You've talked about it, hurting yourself, I mean, enough. I'm tired of your bitching. We're going to do this. 
N-NO! I don't want this! Give my body back!
Fuck no. You're just a pansy. We're going to do this shit now, because I'm tired of hearing you bitch and moan. I'm going to do this, and get it over with. You suck, so shut up. This is all your fault anyways. 








ML took a sip of tea, then dropped to her knees off the bed and onto the floor, pulling out the tub from under my bed where my bath razors were normally kept.
When she didn't find them there, she nonchalantly continued on until she remembered that the bath razors were in a smaller container in the desk cubby.

Pulling it out, she selected a razor (there were several) and jumped back up on the bed, finishing the Toaster Strudel and taking another sip of tea.
She messed with the razor for a bit, trying to open it up. She cut her thumb, superfically (there wasn't any blood), and nodded in agreement with the razor that that wasn't the method to use.

So she took the spoon from my tea cup and pried the razor apart. Two slim, deadly blades fell onto the bed.
I was crying inside.
I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS I insisted.
Oh yes you do, ML said.
NO. NO NO NO. MAKE IT STOP. I DON'T WANT TO HURT MYSELF. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!!!!!!! I begged frantically.
Too bad. We're doing this. This. Is. What. You. Get. 


Cutcutcutcutcutcutcutcutcut






I didn't want to do it.