The being in the Darkness
Is feared by those in the Light
Will I ever find Salvation?
Perhaps when I attain Redemption
For sins committed
A spirit so blasphemous
A mind battling insanity
There is, but, no rest for the Wicked.
The darkness is calling my name
It is luring me in
With memories so haunting
Stop. Just stop.
Facing the Fear, Hatred and Pain
As the Reaper
Embraces me with cold arms
Fear is not an option
For I shall overcome
All that has been committed
And greater than
All that has been given
Finally, Salvation has come for me.



I am not depressed; I tell myself that I am merely going through a phase in my life. One thing I knew for certain is the fact that I am not normal, in every sense of the word. Why do I have to go through so much heartbreak and pain when I all I ever wanted was to be happy? He was my happiness, my pleasure and my joy. Simply put, he was the love of my life. Where did we go so terribly wrong?

My name is Christie and this is my story.

I have always harboured these thoughts for a long time and I do not know when they will stop, so I am thinking that why I am spilling my gut out here is because I just want to get this off my chest to make me feel that somewhere, someone who reads my story would sympathise with me as to what I am going through before I completely fade into oblivion.

The house that I live in is shrouded in darkness, just like how an infectious disease consumes the lungs of a chain smoker. I tremble in fright, my mind focused on the one thing I was seeking all the while – the reason why I am creeping about in my own house, in the middle of the night. I gently walk into the kitchen and I headed for the drawers located in the far eastern side of the kitchen. I reach out for the drawer and it creaks as I pulled it open.

Gently, without further ado, I grasped the tough handle of the knife and take it out of its place. My fingers gently ran over the edge of the steel blade. Even though it was a gentle touch, little beads of blood dripped from my middle finger. I sigh with pleasure. The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through my very being and a slight chuckle escape my mouth. I stare at the knife in my left hand for a few seconds and slowly make my return through the kitchen, towards my bedroom.

I cringe as I hear a creak from a couple of feet before me and I furiously looked up and down, my vision cutting through the darkness that shrouded the house. I must have awoken my parents. Seeing no one in front of me, I continue forward, my nocturnal senses on overdrive, aware of every move I make. Shivers run down my spine, and my heart was pounding within my ribcage. I was more afraid of how the thumping of my heart would awake everyone in the house than the noises I was making, while tip-toeing around the house. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on ends.

Once in my room, I safely dropped the knife onto my bed and pushed my middle finger into my mouth, sucking the blood that was seeping out of the cut I had deliberately made in the kitchen, just a while ago. I closed my door without a sound, and taking the knife back in my left hand, I made my way to the bathroom. The tap turned on with a slight squeak and I run my fingers under the running water.

I quickly undressed and turned on the water of the bathtub I was getting into. Grievous thoughts of self-harm streaked through my mind. “Calen, why did you leave me?!” my heart screamed, “All I ever wanted was to be happy by your side, but, no, you had to dump me for a woman that you met in college! Someone who knew absolutely nothing about your favourite colour, food, music, or your bad habits. Someone whom you had known for only two weeks!”

Reality settling in, I wondered madly how I was going to rewrite my destiny after this break-up. How could anyone be so cruel? Holding the knife in the right hand, I cried. By now, the bathtub was filled and I stepped into it, gradually submerging myself into the water. The swirls of smoke from the hot water rose up, and gently teased my nose. A wistful smile escaped my lips at the pleasure of the hot water, gently enveloping my body.

My body was an old book. The words were my scars and the pages were my skin. I am smart. I only write these words in places that were hidden from the prying eyes of the world. I then read through the words on the pages. Some pages were old, some words were new. Love was found on my wrists.

Now that Calen has left me, there is no reason why I should stop writing this page. I brushed the sharp blade over my skin. Small trickles of blood seeped through the shallow cut, staining the water of the bathtub. I sob uncontrollably etching the words ‘pain’ into my right wrist. I start to see Calen with every cut, blood weeping, just like my heart.

Ten, eleven, twelve… the minutes of the clock ticked by. My vision blurs as I lay there breathless. “Chrissy?” I heard. “Chrissy, are you alright? What on earth are you doing?” the frantic words uttered. It was a familiar voice. “Ca… len? Is… tha… you?” I muttered softly, unbelieving what was going on around me.

“Yes,” he said loudly and pulled me out of the bathtub. I may be delirious from all the blood lost, but I certainly knew it as that voice belonged to the love of my life. I felt strong hands, working frantically, wrapping my body in a towel, and memories of being carried out of my house, in the arms of an Angel.

The whispers of the Angel telling me it is okay, the voice to tell me that I should not die; the whispers telling me to stay conscious.

“Chrissy!” Calen said, shaking me awake as I felt the comfort of the dark consuming me. I must stay awake. I felt a blissful thought enter my mind…

I have my Guardian Angel.