Once upon a time there was a girl
Who suddenly felt sad
And glad
That she just took those 12 paracetamol, 3 sleeping pills and 2 tranquillisers
At the age of 12
She loved the blood that covered her bruised knuckles
And the way her body was now filled with scars and open slits
She remembered the time
At the age of 15
When she woke up in hospital, tangled in tubes
Because she took enough to knock her out this time
Whose scars people still mistake for stretch marks
There was a girl who worked so hard to be able to write her story
From the outside
I am girl who was that girl
But that girl is no longer me
Because I know its my story but I no longer identify with her even though we share our memories
I love my scars because they show me how far I have come, not because of the empty space between them
I love my mind because they let me know theres still miles to run, not all the ways and days until I end it
I always told myself I would kill myself successfully before I’m 18… I’m 18 now
Im starting a new story, but this one takes place in another land
With a different girl
I knew I wouldn’t make it past 18, and I am so glad that that me didn’t.
Taylor
My story
Published
