These Four Walls

Four walls create the barrier
I seclude myself in.
These four walls,
should they ever break,
shall cause the end of me.

I find it odd that I don't feel what or how I "apparently" should.
Statistics show that they who intentionally mutilate themselves
do it for a few reasons.
One being because they feel numb or dead, and they need to feel they are alive.
Some do it because they have a past with sexual and or physical abuse either from parents, siblings, and/or guardians.
Then there are reasons like mine,
feeling stupid or useless, left out, or feeling as though you need to be punished.
Another reason is an inability to deal with excessive amounts of stress or pressure,
and having poor self-esteem.

These four walls,
which hide me from the pain,
cannot crack and chip,
they are to strong for that,
or at least I pray they are.

It makes me feel pathetic,
when I hear about others who SI.
It makes me sad to know that the statistics for teens and adolescents who SI are so high.
I begin to hate myself when I hear of this becoming a new "fad"
I want this to be my thing,
the thing I use.
I don't want to be grouped into a category.
Emo or cutter.
It hurts when I hear people say, "oh they do it for attention"
or "don't talk to them cause they are emo and they scare me"

Four walls so carefully placed,
for the safety of their inhabitant.
Secluded and secure,
calmly within the darkness.

It's been estimated that almost 75% of Americans
practice a form of self-mutilation.[www.healthatoz.com]

This very statistic makes me feel so very, common.
I don't wish to be categorized as a general population of depressed teens...
I don't want to be labeled!
I know no one really knows about me and my problem...
just a few, but as far as they are concerned I am over it.
Some times I want to be,
but then I see those marks and I like them.
Does this make me a sick individual?
I know I needed and deserved them.

Four walls
of great escape,
no way in, trapped beneath
their layers of thoughts.

I know I am not the first to cut my skin,
and I know I am not the last.
So I suppose it's selfish of me to wish to be the only one.
Does it make me a bad person?
I understand it hurts others when I SI but,
I don't intend it to?!
I sometimes wish I could hide it form my love,
but he will see them any way.
It hurts more knowing that his previous girlfriend did this,
and now I am doing it.
It must make him feel as though he is cursed
with psycho girls with deep emotional issues.

These four walls,
which stand guard against pain and sadness,
often leave me feeling empty inside,
as though my insides are being devoured.

It all started because of me.
The night before I committed my first act of mutilation,
I was at my closets friend's house.
It was a warm July night, and her parents weren't home.
She decided she would have a party.
Being the person I am I decided to go, not to mention she is my closest friend.
So everything was fine for the first part,
we were drinking, and laughing,
playing music and dancing around like lunatics.
After we had finished drinking, we decided to all go out side.
knowing that we were over drinking, we all just turned a blind eye.
This was my first mistake.

Four strong walls,
yet how strong are they?
Could one little crack,
bring them all crashing down?

For some reason my friend and I separated,
[I believe she left me for a boy...]
So I was stranded with this guy she knows from work.
Mistake number two occurred when this guy and I started to walk.
After wandering the streets we ended up at the school across form my friend's house.
still drunk out of my mind, and barely able to stand,
this guy asked if he could kiss me,
not thinking or doing much of anything,
he got on top of me and started to kiss my lips.

Can four mental walls,
be torn down,
by the acts and decisions
of the one who lives within?

The next day,
almost dieing with guilt I called my love and told him the story.
I could hear the pain in his voice as he asked me questions.
We didn't talk much after that.
I felt so guilty and so depressed, nothing functioned.
I stayed curled up on my bed, buried beneath layers and layers of blankets.
I cried for hours and hours on end,
the tears were never ending.
I knew it was all my fault and I knew I had to pay for it,
all that would run through my mind was the thoughts of us breaking up.
My pencil case as laying next to me
and concealed deep inside was a small yet sharp EXACTO knife.
I grabbed it and slowly drew it across my skin,
making sure it would draw blood.
I did this precisely eight times,
one for each month we had been together.
It made me feel so light and alive.
I knew I deserved them, i knew i needed them.
"Stupid, dumb, fucking ugly whore!"
I yelled these to myself as I cut away at my skin.

At the time I needed them,
at the time the were necessary,
but now I don;t know why I continue to do it.
Now I fear it has become the addiction I heard about.
Now I fear it will go to far and push away all I need, all I love,
all that I live for...

These four walls
in which I place such great faith in,
shan't fall with out the will of their inhabitant
and when that time comes,
for these walls to crumble around me,
I will have moved on from this place,
and stepped foot into the place I once was.

Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008