By Emma

I often think about my own death. It may seem morbid, maybe even selfish to those around me. But I genuinely think their lives would be better without me. I wonder how much of a burden I am, would I even be missed?

There’s an ebb and flow; either I neutrally exist or I painfully exist. But I’m still here.

Self injury is not far from my mind in these times. But it has saved my life. People often view self injury as a wholly negative and unhealthy coping mechanism. Perhaps they are right; I wouldn’t say it is my finest hour. Nevertheless, it has saved me. It gets misconstrued as anger, or numbness, or a suicide attempt in itself. That’s not always the case.

Sometimes, it’s a matter of damage reduction. You come to a point where the choice is between killing yourself or hurting yourself. Sometimes, it’s giving yourself some breathing space from the thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, it’s a reminder of being alive. Sometimes, it’s something permanent in a world of impermanence.
Most of the time, it’s just getting through.

Would I prefer a different way to cope with suicidal feelings? I would. But this is the best I can do for now. Maybe that’s enough for now. Just to keep myself alive.

My scars are a mark of survival rather than suicide. And one day they will fade, but I won’t have faded. I will exist. And one day it will be for those who don’t see me as a burden, for those who would miss me, for myself. I will exist. For now, I will try survive in a way I know how.