Relapse

I think this is the point in time where most people would turn themselves in. But I'm enjoying my old self too much. The addiction is so refreshing. Maybe this is what it's like for alcoholics and druggies to get a sip of booze or a hit of weed. I don't know. I'm not addicted to either. Yes, I've experienced both, but I don't crave them the way I crave my blade. They're just things I do for fun, for a good time with my friends. But the blade, oh that blade.

Now that it's the day after my birthday and I've used up at least half a roll of toilet paper to wipe up the blood, I should regret it. But I don't. I can't bring myself to apologize for my actions. My repentance has worn out, just like when people wear out their welcome once they start to judge me.

It's been quite a long time since I've had a relapse quite like this. Usually it's a few cuts; a little bloody, but not much. This time, though, I surprised myself. I didn't know I could do that to myself completely calm and sober at the same time.

Both my legs have cuts, welts, scars. It might get worse, it might get better. I can't say for sure. I don't want to know right now. I'm gonna go with the flow. The only promise I'm going to make is that I won't die.