u/Hot-Mobile3154

but still, even though i’ve been in a spot i’ve never been at, my skin still yearns for a reason to be sliced. i haven’t picked up something sharp with the intentions to use it against myself in six months, you think the thought of it would be out of your head by now.
but still, when something goes wrong, all my mind can go to is the graphic images that will always be stored in the back of mind. i remember how calm i felt feeling the sensation of blood dripping off my wrists and onto the floor. i miss the silence of cleaning up after yourself when no one knows how badly you just mutilated your body.
who am i if i am not someone who struggles?
why does healing hurt so bad?
when i was sick and going through my addiction, i felt like i could do anything. i was obsessed with the idea of proving myself i was capable of doing things with chopped up wrists. it was almost like it was my reason for productivity.