I don't think you get it.
It's not some disease or disorder.
It's a demon that creeps slowly into the back of your mind until you finally get the courage to just try it.
And then it becomes an addiction.
Plain and simple.
And you just can't stop.
Because for once in your life you are feeling something real.
The physical pain lets you know that you are capable of feeling, that you are not just a ghost of a person that could fade away.
It makes you real.
And it's always there for you.
It becomes like a drug.
And if you dare let the scars fade, the demon comes back and whispers hateful truths straight into your soul.
You're ugly.
You're fat.
You're worthless.
You're stupid.
You're a b*tch.
You're a loser.
You're a baby.
You are lost.
And no one cares.
No one says these things to you.
Not to your face, anyways.
But you know.
And it runs through your head until you think you just might explode right then and there.
And it's all in your head.
It's all you.
You become your own worst enemy.
And you physically scar yourself because you are so ashamed of the monster you have become.
And you just don't care anymore.
You lose everything else and only want the feeling of the razor piercing your skin.
Because it's real.
Because it's something you can feel.
Because it's a release.
Because it's a punishment.
Because it's an addiction.
Because maybe, just maybe, one night you'll go too far.
And you won't even care.
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