Just gonna stand there and watch me burn…

“Self harm can be a way of coping with problems. It may help you express feelings you can’t put into words, distract you from your life, or release emotional pain. Afterwards, you probably feel better—at least for a little while. But then the painful feelings return, and you feel the urge to hurt yourself again.” (Helpguide.org)

My self inflicted wounds offer release, euphoria and ecstasy like no other. Hit after hit, my heart rate escalates. My self inflicted wounds don’t distract me from life; they channel from my life. With every memory and remembered lie, every betrayal and feigned friendship; I take another hit. It stings. It bleeds. I hit again. I feel stronger. I become stronger. My self inflicted wounds are an addiction. And I oblige, daily. Sometimes more than once.

but that’s alright, because I like the way it hurts.

There are beads of moisture, not unlike tears. Saline to taste. On shriveled lips and quivering fingertips. There are cuts, callouses and bruises. There is blood, there is struggle, darkness and obsession. I let myself drown in it, swim in it, let it all soak in.

My self inflicted wounds aren’t found at the bottom of a bottle, lines of powdered and/or uncontrolled substances. Nor do they manifest as slits on my wrist, an eating disorder or overt sexual behavior in attempt to fill unmet emotional voids.

Stone cold sober, my self inflicted wounds manifest as punches, sprints, squats and lifts. Stone cold sober, I deliver stone cold hits, pushes and pulls, jumps and tricks. Stone cold sober, I become a stone cold b!tch.

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I love the way it hurts.

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