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"More drunken ramble"

I smoked five cigarettes tonight.

And each one I smoked, right until the last, I looked up to heaven, and I said "Just tonight, I promise, just tonight."

And I said it four times before I did what I had to do.

I lit the cigarette, and I pushed it into my arm. And now there's a beautifully circular bruise rising from my skin.

And why did I do that? Maybe because I find it difficult to stop myself until I scar myself. Or maybe because I wanted to feel how much damaged I was doing to myself.

Or maybe I was slapping myself. Maybe the good spirit of my grandfather came down and slapped my face to tell me what the hell I was doing.

But I did it, all the same. Because if there's something I hate, it's the fact that I'm reliant.

And it happens all the time. And it happens over and over again. I was reliant on my mother, my father. I was reliant on my friends, I was reliant on my lover, my girlfriend, my fiancee. And it all went to hell because I couldn't find inner-strength.

So tonight, as I watched myself once again fall into the trap of finding something else to be reliant on, I pushed the cigarette into my arm until I watched my hair catch alight and my skin melt around the burn.

Was that enough? No.

In fact, I set fire to my hand. I watched my hand toast, so it would be a constant reminder not that I'm weak, not that I'm pathetic and needy, but because I will NOT take this anymore.

That I will not be beaten down by the voice in my head.

And it's there, good christ it's there. Don't think for a second that I'm not insane.

But I'm going to fight it. Because I've seen how beautiful this world is, and it's a world worth fighting for.

And just like someone trying to give up cigarretes, this is going to be hard.

Because otherwise I'll just find something else I'll rely on, and I'll move in circles.

But I cannot. Not this time. For I am strong. I AM strong. This is my world, and these are my rules.

And don't think for a second that I'm not drunk out of my head.

But still, that's not the point.

The fact is I'm completely mashed, and I can write like this. I can force myself to write as well as I bloody well can. I can make myself strong, and I have inner strength.

And sure you knew that all along, I wish you'd have helped me realise that.

But that's not your fault. Don't think it is.

I've got a fantastic life to live. I think it's about time I realised that.

Love you all my flowery friends. Night night.

I smoked five cigarettes tonight.

And each one I smoked, right until the last, I looked up to heaven, and I said "Just tonight, I promise, just tonight."

And I said it four times before I did what I had to do.

I lit the cigarette, and I pushed it into my arm. And now there's a beautifully circular bruise rising from my skin.

And why did I do that? Maybe because I find it difficult to stop myself until I scar myself. Or maybe because I wanted to feel how much damaged I was doing to myself.

Or maybe I was slapping myself. Maybe the good spirit of my grandfather came down and slapped my face to tell me what the hell I was doing.

But I did it, all the same. Because if there's something I hate, it's the fact that I'm reliant.

And it happens all the time. And it happens over and over again. I was reliant on my mother, my father. I was reliant on my friends, I was reliant on my lover, my girlfriend, my fiancee. And it all went to hell because I couldn't find inner-strength.

So tonight, as I watched myself once again fall into the trap of finding something else to be reliant on, I pushed the cigarette into my arm until I watched my hair catch alight and my skin melt around the burn.

Was that enough? No.

In fact, I set fire to my hand. I watched my hand toast, so it would be a constant reminder not that I'm weak, not that I'm pathetic and needy, but because I will NOT take this anymore.

That I will not be beaten down by the voice in my head.

And it's there, good christ it's there. Don't think for a second that I'm not insane.

But I'm going to fight it. Because I've seen how beautiful this world is, and it's a world worth fighting for.

And just like someone trying to give up cigarretes, this is going to be hard.

Because otherwise I'll just find something else I'll rely on, and I'll move in circles.

But I cannot. Not this time. For I am strong. I AM strong. This is my world, and these are my rules.

And don't think for a second that I'm not drunk out of my head.

But still, that's not the point.

The fact is I'm completely mashed, and I can write like this. I can force myself to write as well as I bloody well can. I can make myself strong, and I have inner strength.

And sure you knew that all along, I wish you'd have helped me realise that.

But that's not your fault. Don't think it is.

I've got a fantastic life to live. I think it's about time I realised that.

Love you all my flowery friends. Night night.

Don't self-harm you willy

Sheepy sums it up perfectly.
and you write surprisingly well for someone who has had more than their fair share.

Yeah, I agree with Sheepy.

The ending scared me.
Very much so.

And whatever you do, don't self harm youR willy

Ouch

SHEEPY wrote:
> And whatever you do, don't self harm youR willy
>
> Ouch

:-D

SHEEPY wrote:
> And whatever you do, don't self harm youR willy

Unless you've got a fetish for that kind of thing...

I think I've self harmed my Willy.

That's why I'm cutting down.

You don't half write some crap sometimes

I do stupid things like that sometimes. For numerous reasons. Often just to see if I can, or for how long I can take it.