I was addicted to it, in its entirety.
I was addicted to the feel of it in my hand
And to the way it felt on my pale skin,
I was addicted to its scent
And to its welcoming friendliness.
But most of all I was addicted to the undeniable escape it gave me,
An escape like no other,
An escape that couldn't be offered by anything
Or anyone
Else.
An escape that my friends could not provide
That my family didn't understand
And that my enemies loathed the thought of.
Because as I drew it across my pale skin,
I forgot about the mental pain I was going through
And focused
On the physical pain I was forcing upon myself.
I replaced my mental pain
With my physical pain
And it felt good.
Too good.
Slowly but surely
I grew more and more addicted
To its sweet sweet scent
And its blissful feel
And its so called escape.
The only problem is
I don't want to escape from the mental pains anymore
I want to escape from the mental torture
Which forces me to pick up that blade
From time to time when I'm feeling low.
I don't want to force the pain upon myself anymore
But the pleasure
That comes with that pain
Makes it impossible to stop.
It's addictive...
Highly addictive.