Life long Secrets

The glass is warm in her hands, not hot, but not cold. Warm, as it it had been in her hand for awhile. She was contemplating her next move, should she, or should she not. Through all the shit she'd been dealt, she had never thought of this before. It wasn't her. She was used to keeping secrets, but this. This was a dangerous secret. One that she didn't want people to know, but she wanted to shove it in their faces as well. Almost as if to say "Hey, look at me! Now can you see what you've done? Now are you sorry?" But she didn't. She didn't tell, didn't show. 1

The warm glass sunk into the fragile skin easily. She drew a thin line, then lifted the glass to see the result. It had stung, but not as much as the other things. Red lines formed every time she brought the glass down. She had made sure to set boundaries of how far down she would go. She made it so bracelets would cover it without looking suspicious.2

As she sat in the counselor's office, getting the information on what she was here for, the girl smiled to herself. 3

"If you were depressed and suicidal, that's something we couldn't, and wouldn't want, to keep confidential."4

It wasn't that she was suicidal, on the contrary. She didn't want to die. She just wanted the feelings she had inside become tangible, into something she could control. She disguised her habits as trips to the bathroom, where she would proceed in the act, the self vandilization, without anyone knowing what was going on. She knew she shouldn't be doing it, but it helped her so much. It made her pain tangible, and real, unlike what she was feeling, where she tried to deny it all. Special precautions were taken, such as long sleeves, bracelets, wristbands, and sweatshirts. No one noticed, no one cared. She hid it well, seeming to get along with everyone, but secretly, she just wanted to hide. To it in a corner where no one would see, or pay attention, to her. It wouldn't be anything new, but it was comforting none the less. If anyone asked she had planned to use the excuse cat or tree branch scratch, since that's what they looked like. She never cried, never indicated at her pain, spare once, when she was caught. Her father had been so disappointed. It killed her inside to see how calm he was. She just wanted to scream, "Are you happy now?! This is all your fault!" But she only screamed inside. No one else knew her secrets, and no one asked. It was her problem. She could deal on her own. Couldn't she?