Reflective Essay Red Lines

Angry red lines. That’s what I called them. I hated them, loathed them. But at the same time, I needed them. I needed the pain, the sight of blood on my wrist. But summer was coming soon. It would be too hot for jumpers and long sleeves, so I was trying to go cold turkey. But it was so hard. So, so hard. Often I found myself holding the blade in my hands. Most of the time, I don’t even mean to. It just sort of, happened. And I hated myself for it. I wanted to stop. I really did. But it was like a drug; I needed it. I thought maybe telling someone might help. But I didn’t want them to look at me like that. Like I was a broken thing that couldn’t to be fixed. But the scars; the scars will always be there. They’ll never go away. They’ll always …show more content…
I needed to get out of that house. I just didn’t belong. As I neared the bridge, I heard the sound of the rapid water, which always helped clam me. I look over the rails to see the jagged rocks popping out in random places along the river. If I ever were to kill myself this would be the place. If I planned it right, I could hit my head on a rock and render myself unconscious as I bled out or drowned or whatever happened next. As long as I died, I didn’t really care how.
Honestly, I was exhausted. I was sick and tired of acting like I was okay. Like I didn’t care about what the people at school said about me. Like I was okay with how critical my parents were about everything I didn’t and the cruel things they’d say to me and about me. I was just so sick of it all and I was ready to end it.
Slowly, I put one foot up on an intersection of the wooden stakes, which created a perfect foot hold. I slowly pull the other one up, with only my hands holding onto the rails to keep me balanced. My legs are shaking but I swear to God I’m going to jump.
I am so caught up in the moment that I don’t even notice the person behind me until she grabs me and roughly pulls me …show more content…
Her eyes are watery, but she still manages to look so strong. “Do you feel any better?”
“Yeah…” I say in a barely audible whisper. I clear my throat before trying again. “Yeah. Heaps. Thank you.” She smiles, flashing pearly white teeth at me
“Good. Look, I’m no therapist or whatever so I don’t really know what to say, but I can promise to be here if you ever need me. Do you have a phone?” I nod as I hand her my phone. She types in her number and calls herself. “Now I have your number and you have mine. I want you to meet me here, every week. Same time, same place. And if you ever need me before then, I don’t care whether it’s 3pm or 3am, I want you to call me and I’ll be here as fast as I can. But I need you to promise me that you will call me if you need me and then we can get through this together.” I nod, mumbling “thank you’s” over and over.
“So you’re okay now?” She asks again. I nod and she gets up and helps me to my feet. She smiles and hugs me as we exchange names and goodbyes before she turns around to leave.
“I’m gay…” I call out as she’s leaving. I don’t want to lead her on or anything so I figure it best to just tell her