Dark Passenger

I heard them talking as they fixed the dent in the wall.
Given, their voices were muffled because I was hiding away in the bathroom, but I could still hear their conversation.

"What are we gonna do, Ange? I'm worried about him."

"Chris, give him time. He's having a stressful week."

"That's no excuse to punch my fucking wall!"

Was I ashamed of what I did? Not exactly, but I knew I'd get shit from Chris for days about it.

"Chris. Shut the hell up."

"No! He - "

"Listen to me!"

"... What?"

"Ricky's never been like this, I know, but he's never had this stress before either. I'd rather have to fix a dent in your shitty wall than have him in the hospital, because fuck knows what he could do to himself."

Ange was right. I was bound to snap but I'm glad that's all I did. For now, at least.
I was still stressed. I wish punching a wall was a nice stress reliever but it didn't fix anything. I know for a fact I fractured my hand.
I'd stopped listening, mostly because I think they stopped talking, and because I had turned on the water in the sink to wash the blood off my hand.

I'd broken the skin on my knuckles, and not to mention the impact had reopened a few scars, so basically it was a bloody mess.

I grabbed some bandages from a cabinet above the sink and wrapped my hand and wrist.

I stared down. At the drain in the sink. I did that. I fucking punched my best friend's wall and locked myself in his bathroom and let my hand bleed in his sink and on the wall. I used his bandages. I had no right to still be in his house but he didn't bother trying to get me out.

Luckily I'd brought my notebook with me. I opened it to the first blank page I saw and wrote out the words that kept going through my mind.

I can't take the pain, there's blood in the drain
And now the urge is growing stronger and I'm going insane
There's a monster in my head it couldn't be any clearer
For I am truly terrified by the man in the mirror

I set my notebook aside and sat in silence. I stared at my hands.

Surely there's something sharp around?

I mentally slapped myself. I would not fucking hurt myself like that after seven years just because I was stressed.

I might.

I felt like I was having a mental war with myself. Like the voices in my head wanted to kill each other. Or me.

Dear sanity, I miss you so, come back to me
"There are no secrets in life, just hidden truths beneath the surface."
Time is the enemy

Before I could even stop, I slammed my fist into the mirror.

Fuck, fucking great, I broke something else in Chris's house, what an asshole move, Ricky.
Fucking great.

I remember something similar to this. London, 2010. First tour with the band. I punched a mirror in the bus, shattering it. That was the last night I'd relapsed.

I carefully grabbed my notebook and stepped away from the glass, I sat on the floor on the other side of the bathroom and started writing again.

Shatter the glass, step away from the crash
I am slowly suffocating from the weight of my past
No cure for how I feel nothing inside
Cause there's no black in the world dark enough to prescribe