sit back, relapse

It was deliberate, I was resolved, I knew what to do. From the moment I washed my hands my brain rediscovered all those dusty old synapses that it tried to bury away with other distractions like work, friends, pseudo-meaningful conversations that barely even scratch the surface.

The dopamine surge through my nervous system reminded me why, despite the repercussions, I still found it all so delicious and thrilling. I did it until my knees buckled and my legs cramped from the lack of salts, until my throat burned, until I retched and my body folded in half and told me it really could not give any more. Until the shower steam filled the bathroom and I was sufficiently disgusted at myself to stop.

But there are pieces of it left beneath my ribs yet, the debris clinging to my insides. Every inch of my personal space that was invaded hungers for more. I remembered and cried, and tried to forget, and cried still. For someone who believes in everlasting, her promises were all so finite.

2021-11-08.9:16 a.m.
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