You're back but you are not welcome, such a familiar feeling to have you consume me entirely once again. Trichotillomania, trich for short, a big word with a simple meaning. I. Pull. My. Hair. Eyelashes....pressure....have to pull...needs to be out...can't focus...can't speak...can't move...hair...pressure....eyelash....get out....leave me alone...don't do it....too late....its bad....how bad...bad....I did it. It's out. The pressure is gone, for now. I can breathe again. But then I see myself for what trich has done to me and I hate what I am, I hate how I look. Why do I do this to myself? Why trich? Why do you let me do this?

Lost control...
Urges like
pins and needles
pierce and numb
First finger and thumb
move with misplaced
        enthusiasm