One day I will have a pet dinosaur.
and he will be made of bone.
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It never seems to end.
I just want to be small.
So little that when I'm held.... arms
can be wrapped all around me....
holding tight....
So tight that I can feel
pressure around my rib cage.
sharp breaths..
and secure.
Today I forgot about food because I decided
to let a needle attack my arm. When I feel pain,
food no longer matters to me... only the bliss of
the needle gently vibrating into my pale, paper,
skin... I love pain. I adore it and it's
an addiction.
I was told it started when I was a child,
this love for pain. Standing outside in the winter
in bare feet until I could no longer stand it...
Water that was too hot, standing beneath the shower
faucet watching the steam roll around me and listening
to my skin blister...
A few times letting a knife draw into my skin
on my own whim, as if I was a god controlling
a situation that was out of my hands...
but it was bliss, feeling it run over my skin,
white heat that sent me into bliss..
that sent me into an addiction...
Pain.
But since I grew as the years
passed...
I am addicted to pain not
caused by myself but by others.
tattoos like today. Piercings.
Though I am currently not sexually active.
I enjoy gentle sex.
but I find myself day dreaming about
nails scratching deep into my back...
red lines telling a story about being claimed...
I believe that's where my love of starving started.
the pain... the need of having food but the
idea of forcing myself not too...
hunger is the worst kind of pain.
It kills you from the inside...
and I love it.
Glitch.