to happy music to bring me out of my stupor. Or if I wanted to dwell in my misery I would listen to something depressing. Music is pretty influential,” she explained.
That was a concept I hadn't thought of before, although it seemed quite obvious. I was always afraid music would influence my work in a way I didn't want it to. I never thought of using music to force me to feel an emotion I wanted to feel. Still, I felt it was too risky to actually try. I didn't really want to experiment on the technique I had used for so long and was working for me.
“ I should probably go,” Sara said suddenly.
“ Why? You can stay here. Where will you go?”
“ I have places.”
“ I really wish you would stay. I like talking to you. It's been a long time since I've really talked to someone my age. You can crash on the couch or something.”
“ Are you sure?”
“ Of course I am. Unless you want to go.”
“ No. I like talking to you.”
“ Can I ask you something personal?” I asked hesitantly. She nodded and waited until I formed the question in my mind. No matter how I asked it, there was no way I could make it sound as gentle as I wanted, so I finally just asked, “How did you get hurt?”
“ Oh. Um. Well, for much of my existence I have been pushed away and beaten down. I've been in hiding I guess you could say. I used to look much worse than this.”
“ Really?” I didn't even want to think about that. She looked bad enough as it was, I could only imagine what worse really meant.
“ Yeah. There was a period of time where I kind of disappeared all together. You know, not showing myself at all. It was too difficult to know that I would just be beaten down again.”
“ I'm sorry,” I said softly.
“ I think I'm getting better though. I'm at least well enough to be here with you,” she pointed out with a smile.
“ I'm very thankful for that.”
“ Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” she asked.
“ I suppose it's only fair.”
“ While you were painting, you pushed up your sleeves on your shirt. How long have you been cutting for?”
Sara was too observant for her own good. Why did she ask the one thing I didn't want to answer? Why was I so careless to show those cuts to begin with? “Since I was fourteen,” I said indifferently.
“ What makes you do it?”
“ I'm not really sure to be honest. I used to make all kinds of excuses to justify it. It was easier to blame my mom or bullies at school rather than take responsibility for my own actions. The truth is, I guess sometimes when I get too angry, or too sad, or even too happy I always feel numb at the same time. When I cut, it helps make me feel the complete opposite of the emotion I was feeling right before.”
“ I don't understand.”
I thought for a moment for an analogy I could use to better explain myself but decided that an actual example would be better. I decided to tell her about a time I cut while I was happy instead of showing her the darker side of my insanity. “okay, well, I'll give you an example. When I showed Miss Morgan my portfolio, she was crazy about my work. She was giving me all kinds of compliments that I didn't know how to handle. She immediately told me that I could have a spot in her gallery which sent me into a state of utter bliss. I didn't know how to handle the emotions really because they were quite foreign to me. I went home, still on an absolute high from my meeting and I had to bring myself back to reality. So I cut, which immediately brought me back down to earth. I guess it made me feel the way I should be feeling instead of keeping me in the extreme of happiness.”
Sara thought about that for a moment and I could see she was choosing her comment carefully. “From the way you just explained it, it seems like you have a specific range of emotions you feel comfortable in and if something happens to make you go outside that range, cutting puts you back in your place?”
“ That's exactly
That was a concept I hadn't thought of before, although it seemed quite obvious. I was always afraid music would influence my work in a way I didn't want it to. I never thought of using music to force me to feel an emotion I wanted to feel. Still, I felt it was too risky to actually try. I didn't really want to experiment on the technique I had used for so long and was working for me.
“ I should probably go,” Sara said suddenly.
“ Why? You can stay here. Where will you go?”
“ I have places.”
“ I really wish you would stay. I like talking to you. It's been a long time since I've really talked to someone my age. You can crash on the couch or something.”
“ Are you sure?”
“ Of course I am. Unless you want to go.”
“ No. I like talking to you.”
“ Can I ask you something personal?” I asked hesitantly. She nodded and waited until I formed the question in my mind. No matter how I asked it, there was no way I could make it sound as gentle as I wanted, so I finally just asked, “How did you get hurt?”
“ Oh. Um. Well, for much of my existence I have been pushed away and beaten down. I've been in hiding I guess you could say. I used to look much worse than this.”
“ Really?” I didn't even want to think about that. She looked bad enough as it was, I could only imagine what worse really meant.
“ Yeah. There was a period of time where I kind of disappeared all together. You know, not showing myself at all. It was too difficult to know that I would just be beaten down again.”
“ I'm sorry,” I said softly.
“ I think I'm getting better though. I'm at least well enough to be here with you,” she pointed out with a smile.
“ I'm very thankful for that.”
“ Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” she asked.
“ I suppose it's only fair.”
“ While you were painting, you pushed up your sleeves on your shirt. How long have you been cutting for?”
Sara was too observant for her own good. Why did she ask the one thing I didn't want to answer? Why was I so careless to show those cuts to begin with? “Since I was fourteen,” I said indifferently.
“ What makes you do it?”
“ I'm not really sure to be honest. I used to make all kinds of excuses to justify it. It was easier to blame my mom or bullies at school rather than take responsibility for my own actions. The truth is, I guess sometimes when I get too angry, or too sad, or even too happy I always feel numb at the same time. When I cut, it helps make me feel the complete opposite of the emotion I was feeling right before.”
“ I don't understand.”
I thought for a moment for an analogy I could use to better explain myself but decided that an actual example would be better. I decided to tell her about a time I cut while I was happy instead of showing her the darker side of my insanity. “okay, well, I'll give you an example. When I showed Miss Morgan my portfolio, she was crazy about my work. She was giving me all kinds of compliments that I didn't know how to handle. She immediately told me that I could have a spot in her gallery which sent me into a state of utter bliss. I didn't know how to handle the emotions really because they were quite foreign to me. I went home, still on an absolute high from my meeting and I had to bring myself back to reality. So I cut, which immediately brought me back down to earth. I guess it made me feel the way I should be feeling instead of keeping me in the extreme of happiness.”
Sara thought about that for a moment and I could see she was choosing her comment carefully. “From the way you just explained it, it seems like you have a specific range of emotions you feel comfortable in and if something happens to make you go outside that range, cutting puts you back in your place?”
“ That's exactly
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