Self Harm Drawings Novels & Stories

I can never escape the darkness. I tried to break these cycles of violence and despair, but it seems that no matter how hard I try, I am always drawn back into the abyss. I am sick, tired, and exhausted from the never-ending battle within myself. I stare at the dagger in my hand, its blade gleaming in the moonlight, a symbol of the pain and destruction I have caused. Sitting by the hill of corpses that I created, I sliced my skin open, hoping to release the inner torment that plagues me. The crimson droplets fall onto the ground, merging with the blood-soaked earth, a visual representation of the darkness that consumes my soul. But soon, just before the skin starts to heal itself, there is n

I didn't want to get hurt right now I really just wanted to run away from it all. "I need to take a shower." I said letting my body shake as I ran into the bathroom. I locked the door and turn on the shower water and letting tears escape my eyes. I reached in the drawer and grabbed my razor blade wanted my pain to desperately go away. I sat on the floor and and tightly grasped the blade trying desperately not to do it. "Don't do it Kat don't self harm again. You don't need a relapse!" I kept saying to myself over and over again. But Jack just puts me through so much!

Most of all, I hated the tiny dangerous part of myself beginning to wonder who Dante Moretti really was beneath all the control and violence. Because every now and then, I caught glimpses of something human underneath the monster. And that made him even more dangerous. I forced myself to focus on sketching again. Hours passed. For the first time in days, I almost felt normal again. My pencil moved endlessly across pages, creating gowns inspired by sharp city skylines and shattered glass. Designs filled with strength and fury and survival. Pieces of myself poured onto paper. Until reality came crashing back like it always did. Later that afternoon, Dr. Hale arrived for another check-up.

Miguel's accusation that I was pulling away. I forced myself to breathe and let my pencil move across the page. Gradually, an image began to emerge. A woman standing at a crossroads, light coming from two different directions. The shadows around her were dark and grasping, but the light offered two different paths forward. I stared at the sketch, my stomach twisting. This was too revealing. Too honest about the mess inside my head. I flipped to a new page and started again. This time I drew a window with light streaming through it, illuminating dust motes suspended in air. Safe. Neutral. Nothing that exposed the turmoil in my chest.

I wanted to return the drawing but he refused, saying it was a gift and that one day it would be useful to me, I just had to believe. “At night, my head felt like it was going to explode...they didn't give me the migraine medicine! They want me to die, because I know the treasure, the freedom". These were his words, painful words from a wounded man, who had been abandoned. Still with his eyes closed he said what he wanted, he repeated his beloved's name countless times , talked about his pain and what relieved it. My biggest fear was that I would become like him, a man who lives on memories and nothing else. I left the room and went back to mine. I waited for nightfall, while I was facing th

'Why does the theme of humanity have to be sad? He finally asked and I shrugged, staring at the drawing that was divided into four parts. The first part showed children, malnourished children with big stomach and thin legs that could barely carry the weight of their big stomach, they were in a refugee camp and they were clustered around and very very hungry. The second part showed their happy and eager faces when an NGO arrived with relief materials; food and the likes. The third part showed all of them lying on their ground, dead. And the last part showed the government building an dam on where their camp used to be.

Until I would just think to cut my own wrist or to jump by the window. And now, I am like a creep, sitting in my bed and my mind is starting to give me reasons to give up. Like "you are a burden", it's always like that. I feel like that because I always need help and rescue. I am drowning. I took my sketchbook and started to draw meaningless things. I started to write unrhymed poems and stories that are no worth of time. I want to live and escape but I know, if I will, I will only last a day. I am really trying my best to just accept the fact that I am not normal and I will never be living a normal life like a teenager.

I’m getting stressed out with everything that’s happening to me and the only thing that relieves it is by doing this—art. But I don’t have any idea what I’m going to draw. What should I do? I sighed. I took my pencils with different shades and started drawing random lines and curves, until my art started to make sense. Why am I doing this? Bakit ko siya dino-drawing? I don’t even know about her. And . . . why am I crying now that I am seeing the woman on my sketch pad? Why am I hurting like this? Who is she?

My hand still shook a little as I made the first stroke. I didn't draw well. The lines came out broken, and the distant line of the horizon went crooked. But I drew for a long time anyway. I drew the sea. I drew the wind brushing gently over the curtains. I drew myself at seventeen. As I drew, I suddenly laughed out loud. My chest still ached. The wound on my arm hadn't fully healed either. But in that moment, all the pain seemed carried off by the sea wind. I didn't need to wait for anyone to come back, didn't need to fool myself that he still cared.

Trauma doesn’t vanish with pancakes. But healing can start in the quiet. After breakfast, Sofia pulled us both by the hands toward the window, pointing at her drawing taped to the glass. “It’s our family.” she said. “I drew it two weeks ago.” I leaned in. It was a stick figure version of Matteo, me, her, and Enzo standing beside a big, messy house. There were hearts floating over everyone’s heads. The sky was purple. The grass was blue. But the smiles were wide.