Me, Myself And I

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I could have sworn that I had no heart that day. I could have gone as far as to swear that I had no body. It was just a casual invitation yet I wondered why I had taken it that way. It was just a Friday morning in Port Harcourt and I found myself in front of a brown door. I remember that door clear as day. It was a mental place of freedom for me when I was in secondary school.

You see, when one usually passed through my school gate, he or she came before this brown door. Beyond that door was the endless fields of a temple. We went through that door a lot, and dreaded coming back through it. At least I did. But this time, I was on the other side.

I had heard him ask casually; "You coming?"

How could I explain that my body had failed me? No matter what I did, I could not will it to take a step forward. I was perfectly fine. I checked for signs that I was not having my usual anxiety attack. Nothing. Yet, when I attempted to move forward, I in fact found my self moving away. Funny. I remember I had been standing there for quite sometime doing nothing but having a good chat with my friend until he said; "Lets go see how our old school is today." I was sure my mind was fine with this suggestion, yet my body betrayed me.

I don't like memories. Sometimes I find my self stiff from the thought of something so small. These days my mind and body seem to be at disaccord. That says nothing for where logic stands in this war.

I remember the first time I had cut. It was three in the afternoon and I was late for class. It had already taken me a lot to stand up from bed. I could feel my sweat soaked back. Movement was difficult. If I told some one I was in pain, I would have probably been able to sell it than; "my body is failing me."

Thank god I was fully dressed, so I needed not struggle to wear clothes. I just pushed my self to the door. As my foot made an attempt to cross the threshold, I froze. My body doubled its weight and my muscles refused to respond. I attempted to get back into the room, yet could not move.

This was usually the case when I am in bed. Never had I had this system failure standing up before. I tried moving different body parts and my entire body did not flinch. Rolling my eyes around, I looked round the room. My eyes fell upon a pack of razor blades on a bed by the door. With all my strength and will, I moved for it. Sweating profusely as though I was conducting a continuous four hour mountain hike, I fought every nerve in my body. This was a chance. I had no intention of missing it.

As my hand grabbed one of the blades, I returned quickly with that one swift motion, taking with me all the strength I had left, and made one swift cut on my left wrist. The feeling of skin tearing was astute. My body fell like a sack unto the floor.

Remembering today, how I sometimes need to cut myself to sleep, walk, meet people and even leave me room, I sigh. The decisions I made that day may not have been the best, but it got me to class. Those who scorned my lateness, those who cared less; if I made an appearance or not,.... It mattered not. I could not bring my self to mutter a response. I had laid on that floor after fighting my self. I knew I had to get to class, so my mind insisted. I knew I could not be found stuck by the door so logic was outraged. Yet body did as pleased. A story worthy of one of my characters. The heaving of my chest as I laid on that floor, a clear testament. No matter who won the war, I was destined to be victim. I blinked my reddened eye and clenched my teeth.

Breathe in

Breath out.