I miss it. 

Oh god, I miss it. 

Nothing is as good as the burn, the drip, the sting. The constant awareness of my skin, to say simply, I like it.

And since I haven't done it, I miss it. I feel empty, and numb without it. 

So I do it again. 

He told me tho throw them away, to get rid of them. So did everyone else, and I said I did. But lying has become so normal recently, that I haven't noticed it was a lie until I was there, in the same position I was months ago, sad and numb with a blade pressed against my skin and me saying "I can't stop, stopping is weak, endure it. Endure this and you'll feel the pain you miss."

It was deep, deep and long and perfect. It stung when the air hit it. It burned when I cleaned up the blood. 

And I did something that scared me the most. I smiled

I smiled and laughed and did it again, and again, and again. All the while smiling, telling my self "once more, do it again. You love this, you need this, I need this, I need this" Deeper and deeper every time and I couldn't stop. 

Tonight, three days later, I want it again, I've healed too quickly. I will do it again. 

And tell him that last time was the last time. But I've lied. 

So one last sting, one last burn, one last drop of blood. 

One last time. 

Or so I tell myself.