For the first time in a long time,I can't tell you the last time I cut. I couldn't tell you if I cried as I decorated the canvas of my skin, or whether or not I breathed that small breath of relief when it was done. I almost forgot that there was a monster that lived inside me, beneath the flesh colored shell of the person I've become. A demanding restless fiend that feeds off the misery I'm drowning in. I don't remember. What I can tell you is that I've started to think about it more and more. As the days get longer and the road a tad treacherous, I think about it. Today I bought the first box cutter I've looked at in a long time, and there it sits. Pretty as a picture. Mocking or enticing? I haven't decided. It's shameful really to admit it, but in a way I'm comforted by it's presence. Kind of like a visit from an old friend. I know I sound crazy, I know it's insane, I know that it's destructive, I know what everyone will say, I know that I'm better than this. I don't know how to cope. I don't know how to breathe. I don't know how to sleep. I don't know how to dream. I don't know how to see past this. I don't know which side of me will win this battle.