I want to cut. I don’t know why, but I do. It feels like I’m having an affair with this desire. Why? I’m hovering at my desk, behind my husbands back. We went out for New Year’s Eve and stayed in a hotel. I took my exacto knife, though I didn’t use it. I want to. I don’t know why. I’ve been drinking more, perhaps that’s it. Then, why do I drink? I don’t know why. My meds are out, but I’m still here. My heart beats faster, a secret feeling – this desire. Why? Why? My mood is even, maybe that’s what’s scaring me. It feels uncomfortable, not right, not me. My son is on vacation now, 2,000 miles away. Our arguing is often a trigger because I can’t let go, let him fly. I’ve emailed the last psychiatrist I had – asking for prescriptions. I think I may really need those meds before I fall off the fence of this … contemplation. I really want to cut, it satisfies. It helps me hold in words, thoughts, fears of life I can’t identify. I’m contemplating, examining … where can I cut and it not be seen? I want relief, not attention for it. I’ve learned that I can’t get attention the way I always crave. No deep embrace or touching my face. In love. The love is there, but expression has changed. We’ve gotten older together. It was never your style, though I wanted it so. I want to cut, for more reasons than one. But none of it matters. People just don’t understand. How can I smile and make it all seem so nice? But once distractions are gone, and I’m left to contemplate, I wonder what old age will be like and I see a blank slate. Many times, my husband has asked what I’ll do when our son has gone, into adulthood and away from our home. What will I worry about and fight? I think he’s afraid that he’s next. I really want to cut. A pressure valve of emotions to help keep them hidden. To look normal and happy, I need a distraction. To cut would do it … I could work it for days. Deeper and deeper, like the one behind my knee. I’ve no reason to feel this way, yet I do. It has become my normal. I don’t know how to be truly honest in my feelings and actions. I always live trying to meet expectations. Right this moment, I’m not unhappy or mad (that I know of) yet I still want to cut. For relief from what?