Letting Go

         My cheecks glistened as cold wet tears fell from the corners of my hazel eyes.  Alone on the pier I glanced down at my arms. My sobs echoed from beneath the old concrete bridge. My arms so cut and scarred from the one thing that brought me comfort. As the autumn wind howled my straight brown hair stuck to my tear stained face. My pockets of my fall jacket bulged with the one thing that got me through the past two years of my life. Guilt and shame flowed from my eyes. My fragile heart was bleeding and my whole being was crumbling. Confusion warped my mind.  My eyes focused on the rushing water of the river and my ears listened to the southing sound of the water colliding amongst the rocks. The colourful leaves danced and sang as I prayed through my tears. How could I love something so much but hate it with all my heart at the same time? How could I love something that has hurt me so much? The control I had over my life was slipping out of my hands and the objects tucked away in my pockets were my way to gain control over my chaotic life. They comforted me in my moments of sorrow when no one else was around; they were my only coping mechanism.
         My tears streamed down my face leaving trails of mascara and eyeliner as I was faced with reality. I knew the truth but I didn’t want to believe it. Why would I want to believe that what was in my pockets was bringing my destruction when I had relied on it for years? I didn’t want to believe that it had control over me; they were the things that were suppose to give me control not take it away. As I pondered this and thought of my life I started to realize that the objects tucked safely in my pockets were not my friends but my enemies. They polluted my delicate soul with deadly sin and they scarred my pale skin. As I continued to reflect on my relationship with what I called my “best friends” anger started to replace my sadness and regret. My tears faded away and my face twisted into a scowl.
                The wind blew harder as my mood shifted; the calm river seemed to clash against the rocks. My hands formed into fists and my knuckles turned white. I let out a loud cry into the chilly autumn air. I never felt so much hate for something until then. I raised my eyes towards the cosmic sky where the clouds roared as the wind swirled them around. The trees let out their battle cries as the wind challenged them and the bridge shook as a car passed overhead. The rumbling of the vehicle penetrated deep down into my chest rattling my heart making it beat faster. Adrenaline flowed in my blood; I was ready to fight this battle that I was running from.
              With my eyes tightly closed and the sound of the raging river in my ears I courageously lowered my shaking hands towards the purple pockets of my fall jacket. With trembling hands I searched for the zipper. Fumbling around the material of my jacket my fingers finally felt the train tracks of the zipper and I slowly moved up the zipper until my hands felt the cold metal zipper clasp. I grasped the metal in my hands and opened my pockets. I hesitantly maneuvered my hands into the warmth of my pockets where I fumbled to grasp the objects, which controlled my life for so long. I removed the objects from both pockets and I slowly opened my eyes. The sun shone in my eyes and the colours of the leaves were breathtaking. I took a deep breath of fresh crisp air before I lowered my hazel eyes towards the ground where I gazed at the objects in my hands.
                At the sight of the sharp blades in my hands my anger quickly turned into fear. My hands began to shake and become wet with sweat. Doubt filled my mind and the fear of surrendering my blades to the raging river was sickening. My grip tightened around my precious blades, the ones who helped me through all life’s ups and downs.  I couldn’t let them go; they were me and I was them.  I could feel my eyes begin to sting as tears welled up in my frightened eyes. I could feel the blades sinking into the tender flesh of my hands as my grip increasingly tightened. Tears once again streamed down my checks as I raised my eyes towards the sky which now appeared crimson red.  “Be strong Magie. You are stronger than this. You are stronger than your blades, stronger than your self-injury. Just let them go.” I quietly said to myself encouragingly. Lowering my eyes I slowly released my grip on the razor blades. Gazing at the streaming water and listening to the rushing of the wind I closed my eyes and slowly threw one blade into the air. I opened my eyes to see the blade glisten in the sun as it fell towards the raging river. Landing in the water the razor blade floated for a second then the chaos of the river devoured it. The feeling of victory washed over me and a smile crossed my face; a thing that was very foreign to me. I picked up another blade in my right hand and I violently threw it up stream where the battle between the water and the rocks drowned my “best friend”. Laughter escaped my mouth and for the first time in a long time I finally felt in control. Taking the clear square container that held my blades I let out a loud victorious scream as I whipped them through the autumn air where they sank to their watery grave.
                  I was surprised at how I felt. Happiness washed over me as I realized that I had conquered my self-injury that day. I walked from beneath the old bridge but it felt like I was floating. I was free; no longer was I a prisoner to self harm. I broke free from the rusty chains that bounded me to sin. I had a new strength that I hadn’t had before. I was prepared to fight the long and painful battle to recovery. I was set to learn how to be happy again; I was ready for my life to change.