I know what it’s like to feel the demon brew beneath your own skin.
I know what it’s like to long to see your own blood running from your flesh.
I know the sorrow you feel as you gaze at the scars covering your body.
I know the guilt you feel as you watch those scars heal.
I know the burden of the lies you give to hide the fact that you do what you do.
I know the shame you feel when someone figures it out.
I know the building feeling right before you do it.
That nagging voice telling you that it’s okay. 
I know the feeling of release, of joy, once the knife kisses your skin.
I know the warmth you feel as you watch the blood drain, sliding down your skin like a work of art.
I know the pain and guilt of the next day, like a bad morning-after hangover.
I know how hard it is to stop.
I know that the longing never truly goes away.
I know it’s bad.
I know it’s wrong.
But…
I still miss it.

And that’s the true demon inside.