People say that addiction gets easier with time. They say that if you quit, you will be fine within a few months.
It has been one year and two months since the last time i purposely left a scar on myself.
One year and two months since i dragged that shiney sharp thing across my leg.
One year and two months without the thing that made the choking weight of reality feel like a feather.
It has been one year and two months that i have gone without cutting myself.
And i should be proud, right? I’m not. Maybe i would be a little prouder if i didn’t think about it everytime i looked at a sharpener, or knife, or box cutter.
Maybe i would be a little prouder if i didn’t look at my scars wishing i could make new ones.
Maybe i would be a little prouder if i didn’t think about it anytime i got sad or anything bad happened.
People say that addiction gets easier with time. They say that if you quit, you will be fine within a few months.
Because for one year and two months my addiction is still the only thing that manages to comfort me when i need it.