There's nothing worse
Than being clean for so long
And throwing it all down the fucking drain.
I thought I was strong.
I thought I had overcome it.
I thought all of the thoughts of slicing my skin
And hurting myself
Had ceased.
Boy, was I wrong.
Because of rejection,
I was put back into that mindset.
I was at work, too.
Fuck it.
Scratch, scratch, scratch
With my nail onto my hand,
I scratched until i broke skin.
I have a nice scab there,
But I'm ashamed to admit what it's actually from
To my parents.
Why
Am I like this?
Why is relapse so fucking hard?
