9 years and not a scratch. It never goes away – the thought. It follows me everywhere. Perhaps not every day, but on the bad days. On the days where I don’t wish to speak or communicate, I reach for the blade. Holding it in my palm, I feel the scratch upon my skin. Never again. Do NOT. Holding it helps, feeling the blade without any actual harm. My brain is fighting against itself.

Do it.

No. Do not.

For 9 years, I have managed. I have found strength I did not know I had.

One day at a time.

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