I did not know there was a north AND a south

When we discuss things, they come in waves. That is why I love my friends – they are loud and opinionated, but they know how to listen, too. They are smart and inquisitive and thoughtful and stubborn as all hell.

But we do not always discuss happy things. And we do not always discuss in the stereotypical, picturesque gathering around the hearth with hot chocolate and happy hearts and minds.

Sometimes, we use this electronic medium as our voice – and lately, the voice has been screaming out one word – CUTTING.

It is something I cannot understand because I have not been there. In all my moments of insanity and self-depricating depression, in all my suicidal moments and the deceptively dark days and bright nights, I have never had the urge to inflict that kind of bodily harm upon myself.

I just felt like putting that out there, I do not know why. And since I have little knowledge of self-mutilation and no personal experience (because I do not count my friends’ self-injuries as “personal experience”), I will not open my mouth anymore and spout untruths and ignorance.

I will simply…be.