I can’t handle it anymore!
I whispered desperately out into the darkness of my room, and threw away my phone. I had been through so much during the last days, this was the last straw!
I felt like I had been raped… I had tried to commit suicide earlier in the week, but I had called a friend that talked me from it, but now, that wasn’t enough anymore… Nothing could save me now… Nothing.
I went over to the cabinet where I kept my clothes and pulled out a hidden drawer, despite being half blinded by tears I could still see what I was looking for, it was gleaming in the weak light in my room.

I picked it up and tried to see my reflection in it… My pride, my blood stained pride. A big Sami knife was resting in my hands, its blade covered in dried blood. My tears fell on the blade and slowly dissolved the dried blood as I looked at it. I lifted the knife… …
I looked at myself in the mirror, I had no clothes on except for my underwear and I was now standing there, studying all of the bandages that covered my body. Covering my wrists, my arms, my knees, my stomach even my throat, and all of them had stains of blood seeping through them, they were still bleeding, but only a little. I was in the hospital, my mother had wandered in to my room just after I had gone unconscious by blood loss, she had immediately gotten me to the hospital. I remember going insane with the knife, first cutting up my knee caps until the blood was running from them and I couldn’t stand anymore, the pain from that wasn’t enough and I had cut my stomach, hoping to cut it open so I could pull out my insides, but I hadn’t gone that far, when my stomach had started bleeding I had decided that I wanted to end myself, I first cut my wrists open by cutting an X on both of them. I then sat there waiting for my death, but it did not go fast enough, I stood up despite the cuts in my knees, but the pain just felt good by then, it was a proof of my end being near. I remember that I had felt dizzy, but I did not care, I wanted to die.
I had taken the knife to my throat, pressing it into my skin before slicing, I had felt the blood gush out from the open wound, and that was the last thing I remembered before waking up at the hospital like I am now.

I was to change the bandages and clean the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected, after this I could go home as long as I came to the hospital regularly to change the bandages and clean the wounds.
A nurse came into the room and I immediately turned my back to the mirror. Changing the bandages was easy enough, the wounds were not open anymore, most of them had been stitched because they were too deep to heal on their own, but they were all really swollen as the stitches were just as fresh as the wounds.

Nothing was hurting, but that was because they had given me special pain killers, if I hadn’t had them it would have been true agony, especially the wound across my throat. I couldn’t talk at the moment, my throat was swollen because of the wound and pressed down on my vocal cords, the doctor had said that the swelling would ease up if I iced it down and I was expected to get my voice back by the night. I have now been at the hospital for four hours, that is the time it had taken for me to come here and wake up, by that time they had stitched my wounds and given me pain killers, it was now 2 in the morning.

As the nurse was cleaning the wounds I was thinking back on what had made me make that decision that I had made. I remembered it too well as it had been really painful for me to realize it… More painful that I had ever thought that such a little thing could be.

It was a ridiculously little event that made it all flow over the top for me. Heh, really, it is a really stupid thing that made me go over my limit.
As I had tried to commit suicide earlier in the week I had called a friend, a friend whom I am ever so slightly in love with, he knows it, but he doesn’t want any relationship with me. Instead he suggested that we could be friends with benefits I was really doubtful to the offer, I am scared of men to be honest. Ever since 2nd grade I have been a victim for sexual abuse, mostly by boys, but also by girls, but not to such a scaring extent that I never wanted to have sex with a girl again. With boys it was another story though.

So well, I became friends with benefits with this boy and my trust for him grew so big that I allowed him to have sex with me. And now, back to previously of today.

Earlier in this week I had asked if he wanted to sleep over at my place, something he said yes to immediately. I knew that it wasn’t only for the sex he wanted to have me in private, he wanted to reassure himself that I was ok. So, today at school. I normally wait for him in the morning just because it is a habit, but today it was really cold and I couldn’t stand outside for longer than it took me to smoke my cigarette. By the time I had finished my cigarette my hands were blue from the cold weather, so I walked inside thinking that he would pop by our classroom to see if I was present at school since I wasn’t waiting for him outside. I could see him then.
Time went and in the end the clock was 8 and classes started. Well maybe he was late or something and did not have time to check our classroom.
In the recess I went outside to smoke, maybe he was busy with something or some of his friends wanted to talk with him. I bet he doesn’t use all of his time thinking about me.
Next class was gym, me and two friends weren’t attending the class of personal reasons, so we walked down to the store in the biting cold.
As we returned to the school a message ticked in on my phone It read “Wow, it the clock that much already, damn I just woke up!”
W
e texted for a while and he told me that he was at home and not at his apartment close to school, I already then knew that he wouldn’t make to the school since his home was some hours away. That little thing brought me to tears as I had looked forward to him coming over for days now, the rest of the class I was close crying several times. The teachers noticed that together with the freshest scar on my hand and took me out of class to go and see the schools counselor. I was absent for one and a half class, and the time I was absent, I used it to cry, and cry and cry. It felt like my heart was to rip away from all the pain that was coming out all at once.

I did not tell the counselor about the weird relationship he and I had, but my teacher had guessed it, I had told her that he was the one that has kept me from killing myself earlier, and she knew that I wanted to be with him rather than anyone else in that moment. After speaking with the counselor and making sure my eyes weren’t noticeably puffy I returned to class and was able to sit through the last half hour without breaking down again. I really wanted to see him, talk to him, hug him, kiss him. That was one thing I could not do in public… Kiss him. I wanted to keep my status as a lesbian and he wanted to keep his status as single.

The bus ride home was calm, nobody bothered me with their talking and nobody wanted to talk to me. That was a good thing, I did not want to act happy and careless at that moment, I just wanted to think and keep myself in control of my emotions. When I got home my parents had set the table for four people, I had looked at the fourth plate for a second before I took it back to the cabinet. My parents looked asking at me and I only said that he had overslept and wasn’t coming over today. Inside I wanted to cry again, they had even made lots of food so that it would be enough for everybody, now it was no use for that. After dinner my father had to go back to work and me and my mother were alone. I gave in and told her about my suicide attempt from last week and about how the day had been. After that I walked to my room, there I had been sitting for hours with my phone in my hand, considering to call him and talk to him, just so that I could hear his voice, I never did so, I only cried more as I was slowly clawing at myself with my nails, I had sent him a message, it read “Goodbye <3” I then went to get the knife and you know the rest of the story.

As I now go to school I always wear a scarf, long sleeved shirts and gloves, both when I am inside and outside of the school to hide the scars. I force myself to hide the pain if my pain killers start to wear out and it is painful to walk. Because I am walking quite a lot the stitches in my knees gets worn really quickly and people comment it when I am not able to keep up with their pace anymore when we are walking, I only apologize and blame it on a stretched muscle beside my lounge that makes it a little hard to breathe, they then say that they understand and slow down. Well, I can’t blame a stretched, muscle forever. And when summer comes I can’t wear a scarf all the time… That time, that sorrow I guess.

Rizky Ramadhan.

Laras.