Confessions of a Self Harmer

I want to smile.
Laugh at how pathetic this all is.
It amuses me.
It all feels so unreal.
And it’s all so funny.
They cry.
Of course they cry.
My poor mother.
My poor older sister.
They don’t understand.
Of course they don’t.
They don’t understand anything that isn’t them.
They don’t understand anything that isn’t all about them.
But what isn’t there to understand?
Your little girl, your baby sister, she likes to hurt herself.
Cut herself up like a carving board.
And you didn’t know.
You didn’t see.
You were too busy looking at yourselves.