The Hidden Truth Doesn’t Exist

There are things in life that we all hide. Some are hidden with a smile while others, are hidden with clothing. My girlfriend doesn’t want to show me her, “battle scars” up, down, and all over her arms from every time she took apart that damn razor and split her skin apart to bleed out the pain. One cut. Her skin puffs up and red crimson dots seep from her skin to line the cut she just made. Two cuts. She starts to feel happy because each cut she makes, the pain that she has oozes from her body. One turns to two and two turns to four, and her body keeps asking for more.

As I watch the blood run down her arm and drip from her fingers onto the bathroom floor, I can’t help but feel sad and scared. My heart rate rises, I get butterflies in my stomach, knots in my chest, to just stand there and watch her slit her arm because she doesn’t know any other way. She tells you that when she gets into her bed, her arm stings like crazy, and she just lays there and feels the sting from every single fucking cut she’s decorated her entire arm with, from shoulder to wrist.

When I see her the next morning, she touches the cuts to satisfy herself, but only this time it doesn’t work. She still feels sad and upset because all the things that people have said to her like, you’re a piece of s***, you suck, and my personal favorite, you’re the problem and you need to go. They don’t go away. I know from experience. She can’t take it anymore. She needs something else to fill her desire for pain.

She saw a matchbox lying next to a candle, and she took a match out and lit it. She pushed the burning match against her wounded skin. Even though it hurts, she says nothing in reaction to it. The pain that she feels is the heartache in her life burning away. One turns to two, two turns to four, yet her body still asks for more. As she feels her skin burn, she says that she feels better, but no matter what she does, whether it’s cutting, burning or even self-neglect; she’s still going to have to hide all of it behind a smile.

The next day at school, she and I are waking hand in hand and someone asks her how she’s doing. She replies, "Fine", but really, she’s everything but fine. She’s hurt, betrayed, broken, and useless. She feels unwanted and sometimes, even worthless. Every morning when she looks at herself, she sees someone filled with apathy. So to hide it, she puts on a mask of joy and happiness to hide it all, and does a wonderful job at hiding the pain, the constant struggle of life, and all the heartaches that come with it, behind such a simple smile. the pain, the constant struggle of life, and all the heartaches that come with it. Every day she hides her feelings only to come home each and every night to see her life in a million pieces shattered on the floor.

She has done everything she can to try and ease the internal pain that she carries with her every day of her life, but nothing seems to work. She told me that she’s out of options and out of room to do anything else. I don’t want to continue to let her put herself through this every day.

          As I look down into my hands, tightly gripping my stupid fourth generation iPhone, waiting for her to do what I asked her, and send at least a period once every hour to make sure she’s still with me. Two hours go by and she hasn’t sent anything. My mind and body are starting to get very panicky. I’m on my knees praying for hope, that she just fell asleep and can’t hear her phone. I ask God to help me stay strong through the night. Each hour that passes, I say another prayer, trying to stay strong and optimistic. I can’t wait anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I pick up the phone and call her house. Her mom answers and I ask if Jess is awake, and she told me that she’s really sorry, and that there’s nothing that anyone could have done. She tells me that Jess shot herself in the head, and asked me to give you this message. Please tell him that I love him, and I’m so sorry, I just cannot take this anymore. See you on the other side, my love.

T.C.?