I’m sitting here. Tool resting on my leg. I look down to it and shake my head, choosing to instead write rather than use it.
I know using it will make me feel better. So much better, but doing so damages something far deeper than just my skin. Every time I cut I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper into a hole that I don’t think I can bring myself out of.
But it feels so good. It makes everything better. Even for a second I can focus on something real, on something that I’ve done, that I’ve caused. Isn’t that worth falling into a hole? Rather than feeling empty, I can feel something. Anything.
I’m going to do it.
Fucking release. Feeling rushing back into my limbs as the blade goes across. I can feel myself breathing more. Everything rushes into focus and I can think again. I know it’s wrong, but it just feels so good. I can’t fight the urge. I can’t.