The skin beneath my nails break.
The relief that I draw from it is indescribable.
His hands are warm on my shoulders, and I hold on tight to that feeling, because I'll never get that again.
I want to scream at him for bringing back that rush of sadness that I hadn't felt in nearly eternity.
When he releases me, I run.
I can't face him.
Not anymore.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
From then on, pain becomes an infinite release.
A paper cut, the scald of a boiling hot cup of tea in my palms, the prick of a needle, anything that makes me feel pain.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The sessions continue, but they proceed in silence.
He averts my unwavering gaze, and when the hour's up, he picks up his briefcase and leaves.
.....................................
When I let myself bleed under the titalating sensation of the blade, the release is only temporary.
There's a fine line, I know. But's it's one I'm willing to tread, because insanity's the other option.
Being dependant on one person is dangerous, there's no denying that. And I let myself make that mistake. Now I'm paying the price.
YOU ARE READING
Dust In The Light
RomanceInspired by an idea from @DorothyDyxd. You told me to find someone who really understood me. So I did. But the dream of you and me is ethereal. You would never love someone like me. Because you're my psychiatrist. These are my letters to you. The...
