I used to cut myself, but not with knives. I would draw blood using nails, stones, pens, anything I could use as the excuse that I was just a "clumsy kid" and could disguise as accidents. I would hurt myself to get out of things and to feel.
And now;
I find myself once again scratching my skin against things so that I feel pain to give me chills and make me exhale, feeling a release. I strain my muscles to their max, until it is no longer a burn, but has turned to genuine pain.
I push myself mentally to far beyond the breaking point, until my brain turns into a storm that never ends, I torture myself with my thoughts.
However, generally I am cheery, smiling and a pretty happy person. But those thoughts lie in the back of my mind like a plague awaiting to be released. They never leave, and they wear me down bit by bit.
It's as if there's another me, within myself (not in a bipolar way), but someone who likes to torment himself to some level, while my other half desires peace.
But the other...desires chaos, wants conflict and mental disruption...
I am a man constantly fighting to stay in one piece.
And now;
I find myself once again scratching my skin against things so that I feel pain to give me chills and make me exhale, feeling a release. I strain my muscles to their max, until it is no longer a burn, but has turned to genuine pain.
I push myself mentally to far beyond the breaking point, until my brain turns into a storm that never ends, I torture myself with my thoughts.
However, generally I am cheery, smiling and a pretty happy person. But those thoughts lie in the back of my mind like a plague awaiting to be released. They never leave, and they wear me down bit by bit.
It's as if there's another me, within myself (not in a bipolar way), but someone who likes to torment himself to some level, while my other half desires peace.
But the other...desires chaos, wants conflict and mental disruption...
I am a man constantly fighting to stay in one piece.
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