***WARNING: This post contains graphic material that may be triggering to those who are currently suffering with a mental illness. If you are coming to my blog by way of a postpartum depression search, I ask that you do not read this post.
Her soul thrashed wildly in confusion as forceful waves of emotions commanded her to her knees.
She begged for release in every tear drop that fell silently into the palms of her hands.
But those tears were never enough.
They were never enough to set her soul free.
“Are you in there?” he says from outside the bathroom door startling her attention.
She screams to him but he cannot hear her. The pain acting like a strong hand over her mouth muffles her pleas for help. She’s a lost victim in her own body.
“Yes” she cracks through gasps of air.
“Just checking” he said as she heard his footsteps move away from the door.
She lifts her head and catches a glimpse of the unrecognizable tired face in the mirror. She wipes the tears away smudging mascara across her pale cheeks and stares deeply into the lifeless eyes that bore a pain that no one understands.
“Where are you?” she whispered.
She can feel her rationality banging on the defunct walls of her body telling her not to. She knows she shouldn’t, but it’s the only way she knew how to escape the fiery whirlwind of pain.
It’s the only way to feel alive.
She relinquishes her strength as the blade passes through the soft flesh of her underarm. Blood thick and rich with her pain; her unseen hurt quickens to the surface.
She drags it across again and again.
Her soul seeps from the fresh lines.
Life in her warm blood trickles down her arms, glistening on the end of the blade.
And she remembers.
She remembers her smile.
She remembers her laugh.
She remembers her eyes bright with promise.
She remembers her dreams that tickled her tongue.
She remembers her heart beating with liveliness.
She remembers her voice so beautifully strong and solid.
She remembers her soul dancing with hope while her feet planted firmly on the ground.
She remembers being free.
Free from pain.
“Are you still in there?” he shouted from the other side of the door.
She quickly slid her sleeves over arms and turned her head towards his voice.
“Yes” she answered.
When she heard him move away from the door she turned back to the mirror and whispered,
“Where are you Kim?”