Life: Denial

I don’t self harm.

The decades old scars from where I picked on scabs are not self harm. I have bad skin. It itches. What am I supposed to do. That the itching gets worse on the bad days doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything that this pressure that’s been building inside gets better when I push the point of my fountain pen into my skin. I don’t pierce flesh. It doesn’t count. I forget to eat when it’s bad. Except… I don’t forget… I know exactly when I’m supposed to eat. It’s just that sometimes it feels like a comfort I don’t deserve.

I don’t self harm.

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