drug abuse

Life After Beige

The after pain of the cut was sort of therapeutic. A constant reminder that the pain I was feeling was real.  That I was still there - I could still feel.  And the thing is - I had control of that pain.  I could decide how much to cut, when to do it, where on my body and when it would stop.  It was the only thing in my life I had control over.  It was my goto drug for many, many years.  

It begins with a baby on a bus

Don't get me wrong, aside from the dark and dirty secrets, my grandparents were good to me, they provided well for me, and I loved them because they were all I had and I knew no different. They were FAR better than the alternative of growing up with the people who gave birth to me.