I don't mean to, but the worst part is, I can't stop, and when I think hard enough, I think I don't want to. I know that when I step back far enough it reveals itself as addiction. I see the lies that lie on top of the skin that I hide with shitty fabric and stupid smiles. I regret what I did, and I hate looking at the red lines, but I'm addicted to the scars that it leaves and the pain and the buzzing. It makes me wonder what if I went deep enough to bleed and I could always look at the scars, and feel them underneath my fingertips instead of seeing the ugly discolorated lines on my skin. I could hate it forver but fuel my addiction. Though I know it doesn't work like that. I'd feel and see blood, and know that that's worse than just breaking my skin. I don't mean to think this way, and I don't mean to continue reaching for the pin instead of reaching for the phone and calling people who would care and listen to me if I truly asked. Instead I crave the temporary relief and suddenly those anxious thoughts are the least of my problems. I don't mean to, not even for my own sake which I guess is the worst part. It's my addiction, which means mentally, I probably love this. I don't mean to only because I know that when I get caught - can't belive I view it as getting caught rather than telling the truth - they would cry and think they did something wrong. I don't mean to becuase I know that this isn't my body and that it truly belongs to Him and here I am destryoing it because I'm too weak. I don't mean to. I really don't. But I can't stop.

One month, Two weeks, One day

Relapse