6 November 2012
I felt it go in. A strange sensation. Not painful, in fact it seemed to just glide in with no effort at all, but it was accompanied by the slightest sting. I felt it more as I took it back out. A small trickle of blood fell over the side of the tiny oval hole the needle had made as it entered my skin, and the needle itself had taken some of the precious fluid with it, staining the thin steel shaft red. A sudden rushing wave of nausea, or was it euphoria? I never was any good with the sight of blood, especially my own. I pushed the thought away as I put the needle down and sat back on the sofa, holding and flexing my arm. It would pass. I laid down and relaxation washed over me...
Why had I done it? Why hadn't I seeked out the help that was readily available to me? I'd known the help was always there, all I ever had to do was ask. I'd made my choice, and the choice had been to ignore it. I'd been desperate, low. I'd made my choice.
The needle lay innocently on the table. The blood, though only ever a minuscule amount, had stopped. I felt much better. But next time, I'll ask for help.
That's the last time I try to sew up a hole in my jeans...
Needle • Opuss № I