The hidden parts of my legs are often covered in small red mouths screaming. Nobody hears but it sometimes it helps for my body to scream when the rest of me is in silent pain.
If you are reading this thinking I'm a nutcase, you're wrong.
I'm your friend, your neighbour, the smiley person at the checkout, your kid's favourite teacher, your librarian, your sister, your colleague.
You'd never know because I am so ashamed. I could never explain to you that sometimes I am so full of hatred for myself that I need to hurt. Or that I am angry and hurt at something someone has done /said but for some reason, the only way I can release it is to slice myself up. Or that sometimes I am so depressed that I need to feel something... or that there are times when the pain inside becomes unbearable and I have to put it on the outside.
I could never tell you that. And so it stays as my secret.
My body screams under my clothes as I smile at you and shake your hand.
It screams as I nod politely at your conversation.
It screams as I laugh about your weekend.
It screams as I ask how you are.
This is also the language of pain. A different form.
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