“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds”

With depression nothing can stay buried, no wound can be allowed to heal. It keeps diggings and chipping away until you’re a field full of craters or a body covered in open wounds.

Anything can be a blade, no matter how small and insignificant, it will still piece your skin. Everyday you weave between axes and swords and knives that lunge at you. Even the smallest needle will draw blood. And each wound takes an enternity to heal.

Each time you’re injured you feel that knife cut deep inside you, you feels your skin splitting open, ripping you apart. You feel your precious blood pouring out of you. The pain lessens after the initial blow but it’s always there, that sharp stabbing pain that twinges everytime you move. And if should ever begin to fade, if that wound has the audacity to stop bleeding and start to scab, that cannot be allowed. You have to rip it open again to refresh that agony and expose it to the elements. Then the healing process has to start over. But each time the pain begins to ease you rip off the scab again and again, you experience that initial agony over and over.

Soon you are covered in wounds, even when you think there’s no space left for anymore pain you find yourself impaled again. Your body and your mind can take a lot more than you ever thought possible.

Quote by Laurell K. Hamilton