All I want to do is see it.
Maybe I like seeing it more than feeling it.
I want both right now.
I’ve been trying so hard to control my urges.
To stop thinking about it all the time. It’s an addiction I know that now.
Maybe once before it was less than that.
It was a release.
Now it is both , I want it for the release , but I need it because how else do I deal with life …
Some people are addicted to gambling , smoking , drugs of all shapes and sorts.
My little addiction is a secret
No one can know.
I am 26 .
You believe people you can trust , should trust , the people you believe know you, truly know you, could maybe possibly understand.
So you open up.
It never ends well , you either receive pity, an ambulance , the ‘help’ chat.
Or , I still am unsure what is worse, the slowly but sure distance that becomes wedged between you and the person you believe could try to understand.
Addictions break bridges.
But when the bridges are broken my addictions are what are with me.
Vicious circles.
Every time the addiction isn’t fed , you feel as though you have achieved something , something you are so proud of . Something you can’t share with anyone.
Anyone.
That proud smug feeling.
But the addiction is still hungry , longing and screaming to be attended to.

Then something, something just anything happens and you excuse yourself to indulge.
That is the cycle of addiction. And I now understand that.
But whilst I’m writing this , I’m not feeding it. I am desperate to break the cycle , desperate to know myself again without this dark cloud.
Desperate to connect with people without the shame. The thought of this dirty little secret one day being public knowledge.
I wanted to stop writing at this point.
But all I can see in my head it the thought of my scared and damaged writs feeling that feeling.
Looking that way.
Watching the skin break
And the blood rising to the top
Watching the blood darken , clot and dry
And the stinging feeling of pain hate and regret being left on my body.
I wish I could be better , believe I could be better.
I am 26
When will it be better.
12 year old me that once experimented during a science detention with a broken sharpener never imagined being here today.
The Diary Of A Butterfly 🦋 