pain.

It doesn't hurt anymore, you know- when I loved you. It doesn't hurt to think about you anymore. I don't know how long it took or when it stopped hurting and breaking my heart but maybe I just got to the point where I was breaking and it didn't hurt and then I just kept breaking to where I am not. My wrists are mutalated because I am breaking. Maybe it's to speed up the breaking proccess or maybe it's to know that I'm still alive- maybe the pain is what keeps me alive- to make sure I haven't slipped away yet.

Maybe loving you wasn't a mistake. Maybe loving you taught me how to deal with heartbreak in a better way but I haven't found a better way. I don't bother counting the marks. No- one scar for every time I think of him- if that were true my entire body would be covered, there is no pattern- random makes it look like art. Although I can't bring myself to wear short sleeves anymore- maybe that's okay. I practically live in my grey archery hoodie anyway. And I don't know why I hurt myself- maybe it's a way to make sure I'm still alive, to deal with stress and anxiety or maybe something else. I don't know.

People ask why grey is my favorite color- grey is numbness in the midst of the pain, it does not show up in numbers or letters in my mind, it is calming, the cool grey is like a cold river calming my thoughts and sometimes freezing them or clutching them. I don't know how to describe it-

somehow

it

helps

the

pain

be

a little

less

intense.