I cut myself

 I'm looking at these scars, I'm laughing, I'm pouring more whiskey into my cup, I'm laughing harder...

I remember how I got these scars, I remember them like all the sex I've ever had. I remember the first time I carried a razor to cut through my caramel skin, I remember how I smiled when the blood gushed out, it reminded me of my existence on earth.

I remember how I lie about these scars, I'll say it's Nkechi’s bicycle, I'll say blessing pushed me during the jumping game in front of my father's compound, I'll say I fell off the bathroom. I'll say random things. 

Cause why should a 15 years old be cutting herself? 

Will I say, is cause my brother was stupid enough to leave our grown male Neighbor to wash my bum after I urinate, or didn't he know that my ass was nicely shaped at five and stupid men will take advantage of anything that looks good even if it was 5 years old? 

Didn't he notice that Abdul will frequently volunteer to pick me up after school, walk with me and buy me biscuits? Didn't he know that the only time men give gifts is when they want to compensate for something? 

You Don't know what it feels like to be reminded that you are a mistake. You Don't know how it feels like waking up every day wishing you were aborted, wishing you didn't have to hear them fight about how careless she was for not using the pill, of unending conversations that reminds you of how you would have been better off as a sperm. 

I'm sure you are wondering what it feels like to be numb, anxious, stressed, and depressed. Do you know how pressure works? Let me tell you, a million and ten things are telling me there isn't any need to exist, five more are saying the complete opposite, I'm talking but I can't hear myself, I'm screaming but at the wrong time, I'm trying to sleep but I'm scared that I won't wake up again, I'm fighting myself and I'm not winning, I'm struggling to find words to explain this to you. But there aren't any and God forbid you feel them too

But when this razor, knife, and broken glass pierces through my body, it releases emotions that are better than the ones I feel, it reminds me of my existence, it gives me focus and somehow I come alive.

You were staring at my hand and you were asking why the wounds are much. I told you I was racing to find you and I fell off. 

I'm sorry, I lied.