What do you do when you feel wronged, abused and humiliated. Yet the conditionings of society and religion preach to not express anger, frustration or annoyance... you turn that anger inwards. You hurt yourself. You begin to hate yourself... for being so weak, for letting them do it to you. And that, is depression, that is self harm. If it takes immense hatred and hardening of heart to hurt another, it must take extreme helplessness to harm ones own self. To drink until you can't feel a thing, to smoke until you burn your lungs, to eat until you feel nauseated, to starve until you feel dead, to scroll through your social media feed until you feel dissociated, to draw a razor through your wrist and thighs, to sleep around with strangers after the party night... Self harm comes in many forms. And it's sad that we're so broken that instead of identifying it as a problem, we justify it as survival mechanisms.
I knew, if at this very moment, I was given the liberty to speak... and if I allowed myself to seize that opportunity, I'd speak for months... maybe years. Most of it won't make sense. My words would come out crumbled, tattered... folded. I'd ricochet from past to present... from reality to fantasy. Blaming myself and them. Talking of forgiveness and revenge. I'd be making darkness audible. Giving sound to emotions. And I'd be speaking like a broken cassette... screeching, ringing. Like a clogged drain... gurgling, grumbling, groaning. I could feel this ball of voice rotating in my chest, anxious to find an outlet. Writing simply wasn't enough. Beyond a point I needed sound to emerge from my throat.