she cut her wrist.

She cut her wrist in order to convince herself she was human.

She used her blood, and with the finest calligraphy wrote out her life.

She cut her wrist to prove to you that like every other human being she was built on the same preconceived notions and unrealistic realities as everyone else.

she bled.

as she wrote out her life she continued to dip her fingers in her bleeding wrist,

on each and every one of the pages in her book titled “life”

the autobiography written by her, for her.

a road map for herself, for him, for them,

map for all of those who just never understood.

a “must read” in order to be granted access,

a “best seller”,

but sadly like most books it just sits onto of your coffee table.

She cut her wrist and started writing her book,

She is still writing her book.

Permanent.

written with the most durable and long lasting ink,

her blood.

once dried it was her past forever,

but as she wrote and

as it dried she

realized that while it’s apart of her book it isn’t all of her book.

a mere chapter.

She cut her wrist to prove a point to the world,

and in the end her cutting her wrist lead to her

understanding that she is alive and not dead like they told her.

She bleeds red, and its warm

and she can see the cut with her eyes,

feels the blood between her fingers

smells the metallic smell of her dripping blood as it pools around her.

 

She cut her wrist for the wrong reasons

but in the end cutting her wrist saved her.

cutting her wrist meant finding her life.

Gabriela A Tejada ❤

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