Day 10 : ἰχώρ

“The only way to stop bleeding is to bleed out"

I remember the first time I started taking the pen and write. It was around 13 years old, and I still remember how I felt, vividly.

Desperation, self-loathing, hatred.

I wrote two papers that I still keep around, proof of what I’ve been through, and what scares me is that even today, I still read it, and I can still relate.

Desperation, self-hatred, pain, guilt.

I had written those words and showed them to my parents, saying “hey, maybe you should take your teenager to see a therapist, this two papers should give you a clear insight of the pain he is living through"

That’s the first time I bled ink.

I had a few sessions with her, and it really didn’t get me a lot of results. How should I know? Well, because I can’t remember anything remotely interesting about that period of my life. It was supposed to be the first time I sought therapy, but I can only remember these two pieces of advice “talk more to your parents, and write more".

Now the first one has been easy. I guess in a way, I overshared with my parents my whole teenager years and it made me kind of miserable, simply because I was looking for their validation more and more.

The second one was a little bit.. tricky. You see, I developed some kind of fear, a phobia from writing. I hate it, it’s painful, it devastates me.

I felt vulnerable everytime I wrote something, everytime I typed. I felt weak, I felt like I’m the most honest, the most naked to myself and that terrified me. I couldn’t face my Mr Hyde, not now, not never.

Everytime I wrote, I couldn’t stop it until I feel empty, and after that I feel the most happy and the most devastated, like putting down a burden that crashed your back, only to find out that that relief is only temporary, and your back pain is the nightmare.

Everytime I wanted to write, to cut myself, I had to make the choice : either I don’t or to bleed out ink. I relished that blood, I loved how black it is, how rich it smelled, only to realize that this darkness and blackness came out from me.

Who knows what lurks in the inside ?

Where does that all come from ?

Is there more from where it comes ?

No answers.

So I bleed a lot, I chose that. I couldn’t keep it all in. I just hope that one day I know how to stop it from destroying myself.

Guess I have to learn first aid.