The bad habit is back, knocking on the door at 1 am,
Half awakened,
half asleep, I gently let it in.
Movements
trained to perfection,
Mask is
on, time to perform.
Another empty
train of thoughts,
Paralyzed,
fight-or-flight mode on.
Insecurities
hidden in that box
Now spread
carefully on the cold floor.
Eyes dry,
mouth shut – Hello darling, I am back.
...
Silent and
exhausted, I am losing my stand,
Sunken deep
into that false retreat of something well known.
My mistakes
chasing me, reminding me of weaknesses
I thought
I had successfully overcome.
Feeling pressured,
no resistance left in me
Should I
let myself be lost again
Or try
to fight like the fighter I know I am.
Questions
running wild in the darkest hours,
I feel I
am fading like I’ve done so many times before.
Smile on,
deceiving everyone – my finest act,
On the
inside dying, trying to scream…
…
At my weakest,
I still manage to resist,
My bad
habit, my sweetest torture I cannot forgo,
Like my
second nature, I slip up easily.
Like an
old friend, I keep you close, unable to release
As if I will
be empty once I let it out for good.
I am not
misunderstood; I inflict the damage consciously.
I have carried
it for so long, my hidden secret
My greatest
pain, yet the pleasure I crave the most.
My mind
is fucked up; I am not willing to stop.
The bad
habit makes me feel alive, still capable of feeling,
Living in
denial that the cycle stopped.
Maybe
this is what still keeps me sane?
Some wounds
are never meant to heal but to stay dormant,
Dressed in
guilt and shame, yet I am unable to pretend
That I am
fine and happy every day.
I cannot
let go of what I know best even test after test,
I am not
weak; I am just comfortable with this tendency,
Even driven
to the extreme, I still give in.
…
Awake in
the morning, the evidence is washed away,
Tiny fragments
of its scent left on my skin to remind me of what I have done during the night.
I know
this cycle will one day leave me hollow,
Yet I still
hold it dear as if it is a sacred thing to me.
I cannot
heal; who will I be without it?
I am
nothing without the hunger I have learnt to feed,
So I keep
repeating the process I perfected alone in that room,
Till the day it finally takes the last piece of me.
