No one lives in this room
without confronting the whiteness of the wall
behind the poems, planks of books,
photographs of dead heroines.
Without contemplating last and late
the true nature of poetry. The drive
to connect. The dream of a common language.
They can rule the world while they can persuade us
our pain belongs in some order.
Is death by famine worse than death by suicide,
than a life of famine and suicide [...]
I do not know
who I was when I did those things
or who I said I was
or whether I willed to feel
what I had read about
or who in fact there was with me
or whether I knew, even then
that there was doubt about these things.
Even where love has run thin
the child's soul musters strength...
--the rush of purpose to make a life
worth living past abandonment
building the layers up again
over the torn hole.
My name is Gabrielle and I am twenty-eight years old. I began to self-injure at age fifteen -- so nearly thirteen years -- minus a two year period. This website was made to let self-injurers know that they are not alone and to help their friends and family learn more about self-injury and how it affects their loved one.
