We have moments. We have breakdowns. Sometimes we reach a point where nothing matters more than the thing that hurts you. When you had to do what you did just because there seemed no other way out of the closed box.
When claustrophobia takes over you and harming yourself becomes the only way out.
When you’re suffocating and call out for help, screaming your lungs out hoping someone comes to rescue you, pull you out but no. Nobody comes. And somewhere in your heart you knew they wouldn’t. And then you struggle and the quicksand sinks you further.
You close your eyes, accepting the inevitable, knowing that you did what you did and you chose it so there’s no regret. You almost drown and then its all a blur.
Maybe you fainted, because suddenly you’re on the ground, hard solid ground. And you wonder what happened and then stand up, wipe the dirt, all the hurt and regrets and sorrows and feelings and Everything that drowned you.
You think, and then it strikes you.
You, you yourself helped yourself out. Because there’s no one that’ll be there for you except you yourself. And its in those moments when you’re losing yourself that you actually think, open your eyes and decide that this isn’t the way you’ll go down. Because there’s you and you only. And the quicksand slowly dissolved into a garden with flowers because you’re finally free of others, of bonds that gave you nothing but pain, of people who constantly reminded you of how useless you are. Because you’re free now. And this garden is your present. Your prize for realising the faded truth.
Because now, its no more a blur.
Now you’re free and then you realise,
Self harm wasn’t the only way out.