You Lie Through Your Teeth

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
she's inflicting pain on herself because of what she's done

Submitted: August 16, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 16, 2008



The depressed feeling hovering over my body and mind was overwhelming. I would have to be punished for what I had done. It was inevitable. It would be the only way to reconcile inside myself for the path I’d chosen. To him, I’d given my whole heart, soul, body, mind, and being. To her I’d given my heart, my love, my core. How could I make them see that sharing me could be possible? Was it possible? I still did not know. I’d tried it for many weeks already. How much longer could I go on stretching myself thin? How much longer could I suppress the anger I felt and the sadness that constantly lingered? I was so ashamed of the life I was living. I was on the wrong side of the street. I needed to switch gears and move over. I almost couldn’t face myself anymore. Looking in the mirror brought the shame of the thing forward. Put it in my eyes staring right back at me showed defeat. I was hurting them..all of them while hurting myself. No one was winning this game. I was the one holding us all back. I didn’t belong in this situation. I belonged alone, where I could gather my thoughts and choose which path to progress on.
Immediately the tattoo I’d been wanting for years crept into my thoughts. Yes, that would be the perfect way to inflict the pain on myself that I’d caused for them. I’d go now, and so I packed my pockets full of cash and drove away.
I was perched anxiously on the tattoo artists chair. He gave me one last glance and asked, are you ready? Bravely I replied, I’m ready. I put the earbuds in my ears and blasted the depressing tunes of alternative music into my brain. The first few scratches were nothing. This would be simple. It wasn’t the type of pain I was hoping would give me insight into what I’d caused them both. I waited patiently for an ounce of pain that would bring tears to my eyes. I could not cry. I hadn’t cried in a month though I needed to badly. The singer in my ear cried out, "we’ll just give this a shot, we need to talk, don’t let it slip away, our love". FAST FORWARD. I should have listened because it was the soundtrack of my life at that moment. The tattooist finished the first of three stars. He went to the second and I felt a tingle. Nothing major. He completed the second and looked up at me. Doing ok? he asked. Fine, I replied. He dipped the needles into the blue ink once again and headed down to the final star, just left of the crescent moon. He began shading and OWWWWWW! Finally the pain I’d been so desperately searching for had shown itself. The headphones screamed "I’m already over already over you".. I listened hard. Turning the music louder helped to numb some of the intensity that was bearing down on my wrist. He stopped, I’m assuming to dip the needles again. This time he went back to the first star. FUCK! He was shading in another color and it only reopened the wounds!! Oh god the pain..the pain was overwhelming..but I grit my teeth and breathed deeply. Punishment. Must take it. Shading on the second and third star was worse. These wounds were fresher and hadn’t had long to rest. The scraping was fire on my icy skin. The burning was through and through. He asked if I needed a break.. NO, continue please. The song had ended. A new one began. "Keep me in your memories and leave out all the rest..I need to feel your love, be close to you.." and the shading started on the moon. "You were so scared and no one would listen because no one else cared" those words reminded me of why I’d started with her in the first place. I needed to be rescued and so did she. I didn’t want to miss that opportunity. She brought out of me a side that no one had ever achieved before, not even myself. "Taking my beating, shared only by me; I’m strong on the surface" this was me in this very moment. The shading was tearing my skin off and dribbles of blood were emerging. The skin he was wiping away was indicative of my suffering. This was perfect. My arm was shaking in response to the pain. My fingertips were frozen in vasoconstriction response. It was only adding to my punishment. The uncontrollable shaking and immense cold.. It made me feel like I’d achieved my goal. I listened to the words in my ears. "e don’t have to look back now, we can make it through this" Looking out the window of the parlor I saw that it was raining. Is that a sign that I’d received my punishment in full yet? The mental anguish, the physical pain that I’d chosen to inflict on myself. Was this the heavens crying, saying to me that I’d done enough? That I’d chosen the wrong way to deal with this? That they never condoned this in the first place? Should I stop now and deal with my pain differently? NO. I couldn’t be stopped. I must finish and achieve my goal. I was hurting them and they’d be scarred indefinitely. I didn’t stop myself from doing that to them, so why should I stop my pain. How selfish would be that? "We don’t have to look back now". But I would always look back to what I’d done, to what I tried to do, to what I’d hoped to gain out of it. The burning in my skin worsened. My fingers felt like they’d self-amputate at any moment. The rain outside continued, steadily falling, a constant reminder of a plead to stop this insanity.
But how could I quit my newfound habit after I found so much pleasure with each of them? I wanted both and I didn’t know if that was even possible but I was willing to try til the death of me. NO, don’t think about it like that. Think of the pain, their pain, my pain. Condense it and accept it. Channel it or let it consume you. Choose. He was shading near the ends of the moon; it was almost over. Would there be a peak? I hoped there would be. This was not nearly quite as bad as how I’d treated them. Shade again Micah, shade all you can. Inflict scarring wounds upon me, burden me with pain that was unforgiving. Give me more than a woman can handle. Make me cringe with death sparkling pain. I want to see stars when I look out. The shading with a new color continued over the fresh wounds. I was happy in this place. I was scarring my body and would always remember this when I looked at my hands. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I’ve always heard. My head hung low. The music played on, deafening my hearing. The damaging decibels cried all the things I was feeling, yet in a more beautiful way. "I should have gone away". Yes, I should have. I should have run when I saw the freight train coming. I should have turned away and chosen what was right. But I thought that was what I had done. I’d chosen what was right for me in that moment. And that was both of them. It’s only wrong because that’s what society says is wrong. Almost done, he told me. NO I cried. I needed the pain to continue until I felt remorseful. I still did not. I did not yet feel the incredible desire to be forever apologetic to each of them. To give my last drop of blood to save their lives. That would be sufficient. If I could bleed out right here right now, that would suffice. I needed to be killed by the pain to feel what they felt. I loved him, but I loved her. What would I choose now? Him or her? Would I go back to both? Would I return to what I’d been doing and try to convince myself that it would work? I was certain that I would. I wanted her but I wanted him. Tears streamed down my face as the song wailed "breaking slowly, I’ll give my burden to you, I’ll reach to you as I fall, please let it be over". The tears ran slowly down, breaking at my chin. Tears. I had achieved my goal. The pain was immense and I wanted him to stop now but I let him scrape on and on. It could only get worse. "I offer myself.. I give myself to you, letting go of pain, reaching out to you as I fall" The rain was beating down on the tin roof. I let the tears overtake me. The pain rippled up my arm and into my chest. The tears were a sign of my weakness and my guilt. The suffereing was imprinted in my skin now, the verdict was my moon and stars. They were the prosecutor’s proof that I had done the crime and had now been severely punished. Not only the physical pain, but the mental pain I’d swallowed. The scraping stopped and soothing began. I’d paid my debt in full and the crying on the roof top ceased.

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