Cut, slice, dig as deep as I can. Don’t stop until I’m focused on the new pain. Breathe. Watch the red teardrops fall as I feel the sweet sting of relief. The metallic aroma becomes overwhelming. Close my eyes and trace the lines with my fingers, feeling what I have done. Oh how I wish I could cry again. The real pain becomes hidden beneath layers of weakness; concealing the truth. But for the brief seconds of sting, I can finally breathe. As the relief fades, I fall into the arms of disgust. Self-loathing. I want to die, but I can’t. A vicious cycle that never ends. I’m begging you, help me.