Sometimes I get this feeling like everything is ending around me. The air somehow seems heavier and I find myself fighting to breathe. And the faster I breathe to try and stop the fear, the more I find myself losing control.
Sometimes I find myself scratching. Sometimes I do it deliberately because I need something to slow myself down; because the pain brings me back to reality. Sometimes I do it because I convince myself that I deserve the pain. I don't like doing it and yet it's like a cure, and I know that in allowing myself to inflict this pain I will find a release from the moment. Everytime I begin to panic I find myself looking at the scars and once again my mind fights with itself.
I don't know what brings me to do it but I know I should stop. And while I still get that urge to do it, I am fighting it. I am keeping my hands occupied. Making things, scribbling, baking, anything. Just holding a pen can sometimes be enough. I am fighting against the urge because I want to be me again.
And I am beginning to get better.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
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