This

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve lost my mind; I’ve decided to print what I’ve tried to hide. I struggle with addiction; I’m in love with the pain— I say that I’ll stop, but I know I’ll start again. I might do good, and stay on track for a while; then I’ll slip back into the routine of my self-condemning lifestyle. I’ll shred myself with words, tear the flesh into pieces; inflict so much pain; oh, how deep my hatred reaches. I destroy myself but I won’t stop there; my pain isn’t complete until I run off those who’d care. I push away friends, who dare to get too close; I’m terrified they’ll see just what I already know. I want to be alone, it’s safer, you see? I don’t have to worry you’ll end up hurting me. I can hurt myself; I do it all the time. But if you hurt me, I don’t know that I’d survive. So I’ll push you away if you mean too much; I’m already scarred everywhere you’ve touched. This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last; you know the future always repeats the past. I’ve lost a few people I never thought I would; I love them a lot; a little more than I should. Although I have an addiction where I love to feel the pain; this is so much different—nowhere near the same.

To be continued…