Every time we kissed you closed your eyes, and I clamped mine open, just to see those short lived moments that I almost let me love you.
So lie away, I did, so wide awake, trying to give myself a good reason to forget the empty words from this hollow curse. I can’t shake the weight of what we’ve been through, and I won’t justify the way we never really listen to a goddamn word we claim to. Let’s be fair. Let’s take some order. We’re too much like each other, and there’s no chance in hell that you would change for me. Why would I change for you? But the painful truth exposed here, as you grab your autumn jacket and slowly make your way towards the door, is that in this short lived moment my heart is left unfastened, as the single thing I feared the most just happened.
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.