This is a lesson
I learned in seventh grade. A little early, but not much, anymore.
The safety pins leave scars if you press too hard. And even if they don't scar, the scrapes do sting if you get something in them.
The knives scar. So do the razor-blades, the X-acto edges. All of them scar, permanently. And who would want to carry around memories of trying to cry and not being able to?
Pills, though. The perfect escape. They leave no external scars. They just rip up your insides with acid or something else. Or you just drift off to sleep, and you don't even notice when you can't wake up.
Unfortunately, my rebellious stomach purged itself of my only hope for peace. I was thirteen, when I first tried to kill myself.
And I'm still here.