I don’t usually put warnings up, but there are elements here that might be graphically disturbing. It’s a little poem about self-harm.
There comes a point when it stops hurting. When the pain is replaced by numbness. When all that remains is emptiness.
And in a way that’s a good thing – there might be no joy, no happiness but there is no hurt either. Only a silent void. Absence of feeling, deathly serenity.
They say ignorance is bliss and they might well be right – insulation from feelings brings a certain clarity to my mind, in which state I may contemplate choice of actions rationally.
I am faced with hard choices that bear the seeds of possible futures. I could continue on my present course in the expectation that further hurt lies ahead or I could turn aside onto a new, unknown path. I fear the unknown but can hardly bear the life I have. Is my despair enough to drive me over the barrier of my fears?