Relapse

It was just a phase - for 5 years

I was doing better, feeling great.

I tidied my table and cleaned my room.

Threw away the broken pink pair of scissors

with hesitation, but it's been more than a year

and I pushed through to not look back.

It was never just a phase.

Subconsciously, I knew.

Every time the urges resurface, I fight hard to keep it down.

I kept on walking straight, not realising the Earth was a globe.

This was a longer cycle of my life.

Oh, the irony.

Another pair of scissors - blue - a gift from my instructor.

Not the wrists, because my parents would know.

So, the biceps.

I want to hurt. I want to be in pain. I deserve to bleed. I want to scar.

Old me would be so disappointed in present me for not being able to do so.

I regret throwing away the sharper pair of scissors.