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suicide

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Madison Scott-Clary
2019-10-10 22:03:08 -07:00
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content/self-harm/suicide/006.md
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date: 2019-10-08
date: 2019-10-10
weight: 6
---
@ -21,3 +21,43 @@ The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.</div>
I can remember it so clearly.
> You can remember it because you still live it.
Yes. I still feel that slide into someone-else-ness, and then the snap back when drawn back into self-ness. Back into here and now.
> You felt that last night.
Yes.
> You felt that slide into dissociation, felt the folding blade click into place with a vague sense of surprise, then jolted as it drew across your leg.
Yes.
> You felt that same jolt of humiliation and pain and anger and fear.
Yes.
> Especially this time. You cut too deep. Your usual superficial-yet-still-painful scratch had turned into something of a flay.
Yes.
> You needed twelve stitches. You lied and said you dropped your knife while cleaning it.
Yes.
> Are you writing about this now because you were working up to this most recent little climax?
I really don't know.
> Tell me what happened after.
I started whispering James' name--
> Both times?
Both times. I started whispering his name, then eventually swallowed the miniscule bit of pride I had left and called out loud enough to wake him up. "Can you come help me?" I asked. It took asking two more times before he got up. I found out later that he thought I had made a mess and just wanted help cleaning up, thinking that I should just clean up my own messes. A good point, that.
Though the rest of the night in March is still sort of a blur --- I hadn't totally gotten out of the state that I was in, just woken up enough to engage with the mechanics --- I do remember James helping me to clean and bandage my arm as we sat on the floor of the bathroom, the dog occasionally wandering in and out. The whole time, I was still sobbing, blubbering out, "I don't want to leave you, I don't want to leave Zephyr, I don't know why I did that, I'm sorry" over and over again.