u/AbroadWhich7305

go to the bathroom again,

you know what this means.

Another relapse,

not the first,

and I tell myself

it won’t be the last.

One cut here,

one cut there,

watching red lines fall

down my wrists

like rain against a window.

For a moment

I feel something again.

Not empty,

not numb —

almost happy.

But ten minutes pass,

and the silence comes back.

The same ache,

the same thoughts,

the same hollow feeling

sitting in my chest.

So I walk back

to the bathroom again,

repeat, repeat, repeat,

like a song I never chose

but somehow learned by heart.

Until it stopped feeling like a choice,

and started feeling

like an addiction.

Because when pain

becomes the only thing

that changes how you feel,

you begin to wonder

what else there is to do.