May 12, 2011
I run my shaking fingers across the blade, remembering.

I always told myself I wouldn't do this. But I also said I would never wear make-up. The first night, I just wanted to see if it would really make me feel. I was only going to do it once.

Here I am again.

It has become a necessity. I wish I could stop.

"Oh, God, please make it stop." I think as a rake the blade across my forearm. "I don't want to do this anymore, but I can't stop!"

Red blood flows out like a river down my arm and onto my sheets. I watch it flow out for a little while.

I wash the beautiful blood off and wrap my arm up.

I slip on a jacket so no one will suspect. I slap on a smile so no one will see.

I am a slave to my own addiction.

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