My CravingI can feel it. It's deep in the pit of my stomach. The acid churns and pops and the muscles ache.
My chest aches and becomes tight. It's hard for me to take a deep breath. The muscles in my throat constrict and the air catches.
My heart speeds up and slows at the same time. I can feel it pounding in my head. My brain races with thoughts of madness.
My muscles burn and ache. My body shakes. I can't stay still yet all I want is to curl up in a ball. I rock myself back and forth for comfort.
Years pour out and pain comes. It's uncontrollable. My whole body convulses with each sob. I need a release. I need my addiction.
I hesitate for a moment and plan out where I want to place the blade. I always chose the same spot now. It used to be random. I didn't care.
I was stupid when this started. I wanted to have any piece of flesh. Now I only want one spot. I want my wrist.
My wrists is my blade home. I cut directly in the middle in a small straight line. I can make it bigger and deeper when I cut over and over again.
I found my scar. I pressed hard and waited for the pain. I cut deeper and deeper until I could finally feel the pain. I have to cut deeper each time because the scar causes me not to feel it or draw blood.
I wait for the crimson release to come. I watch it seep out of the small open wound. I smear it away and look at the wound.
I can see the meat and blood. I can feel the burn and sting. I can even feel the vein with the blade's tip. I play with the vein.
I can move it around slightly back and forth. I can feel the nerve endings ache and tell my brain to make my body jerk away.
I have to have it. I have to feel it. I have to have it. The pain makes my hurt inside go away. I have to feed my craving. I have to keep my addition going.