After what felt like eons of deliberation, this post is now public. Trigger warning for self-mutilation. You can tell it’s a fun one just from that.
The thing is, I said I’d be open, I said depression is nothing to be ashamed of, and if I hide the post that talks about how I hurt myself, I’m going against everything I stand for. So despite the fact that it’s slightly embarrassing to me and despite the fact that it’s hard to read, you can now all read the post about how I cut up my thigh. There you go.
Another big step I have decided to take is that I will probably give my boyfriend the URL to my blog. This horrifies me. But I feel like he’s earned it, as fucked up as that sounds. He essentially already knows everything that’s on here; he just hasn’t read the specifics. And he’s seen me in a state that no one else has, including my parents. I cried all snotty and gross and lame, and instead of flipping a shit, he just held me. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. It was a scene straight from some sort of romantic, these-guys-don’t-exist-in-real-life-haha-lol movie. That is a terrible adjective phrase, but you get it: he’s surreal to me. I’m not one for sap, but it really is astounding to find someone who likes you for you. Certainly not an overrated experience.
And if it can happen for me, it can happen for you. Even if Allen up and dumps my ass tomorrow, at least for that one night, he held me while I died inside. And if someone can like me in that state, someone can like you. The people who will hold you exist in this world; sometimes they’re just 355 miles away for a while.
Sometimes this world can be so beautiful. Even with its ugliness, its loneliness, the fact that I cried at all over nothing. Maybe the shift of things is something beautiful. Maybe the fact that people change and die and melt into the earth – maybe there’s a weird beauty to all of that.
Or maybe not.
I guess the thing is: I’m going to die one day. And I don’t want to die having etched into people’s minds, if only temporarily, that the world is a horrible place. And I don’t want that to be the only perspective I’ve experienced. And I don’t want to have spoken about openness and acceptance, only to lock away parts of myself to anyone. I fuck up. A lot. And maybe that’s the beauty of things: they are unexpected and messy and random and wonderful. Wonderful.
-Cat
