ways to self-harm as a black woman because your mama would kill you if you cut yourself

first, i tried pinching:squeezed skin between fingertipsuntil it ashed like i scratchedmy eczema until it spread.i was prideful on how much paini could take as if that meantno one could hurt me asmuch as i hurt myself.but when that wasn’t enough,i tried bitinguntil i felt bone beneath my teethbut never broke skin.what’s a bite or a pinchto a child that got whoopins?who was smacked and slapped

one time one time—my mom popped a blood vessel in my eyeso much so that i wished she was the onewho wanted to die.i knew i needed to find new ways to bleed,so i kept friends that failedto stick up for me.i stuck with mediocritybecause i doubtedanyone else could love me.

and when i did get free,i got freaky:fucked so much i felt nothing.see pleasure can be pain.i tried everything—no fetish pushed me away.i went on a million first dates,begged to be loved,through being a good fuck.i thought partners could seehow i was wifey materialdespite being ripped apart.

then tattered i got tatted.think i prefered the pain paintedi cried after every session.

i never really recover.i yearn to get back under the needle,i’d even pierce my nipples,but i am afraid to lose feelingdespite not wanting to feel anything.don’t that be twisted?

how i hold myself to such a high standard.any mistake i make leaves me crashing,a paperweight,smashing on the floor.i am so good at getting awards,but i never feel like a winner.i once got recognition for beingopen-minded. i accepted everyonebut myself. i once was rewardedin every category at a ceremony,and left with no one to celebrate with andthat hurt more than any cut to the skin.but at least it wasn’t my body that wasdecorated. i have no lines to tell my story,but i love a good read.

sometimes i don’t hide how weird i bejust to feel the pain of people whowould make fun of me, so iguess i got a humiliation kink.

theres a million ways to hurt:i can tell you which one stays,but there’s only a few tosave yourself from the pain.i try something new everyday.i know that even my suicideneeds to be socially acceptable

to a culture that villainizesblack girls—

but why should my death matter anywaywhen the only person i hurt is myself.