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The other day I fell off the wagon and cut myself several times on my wrist. It has been a few months since I had done it last and can't really pinpoint a reason why I did it. I saw the razor blade and felt a surge of adrenaline that rivals any high I have ever had.
Taking the razor across my wrist, seeing the first tiny drops of blood was like a release. It actually made me smile to see the marks and blood.
I go back to the psychiatrist on the 13th and discuss this episode, the fact my anti depressant makes me feel like I'm just a shell, and my insomnia is in full fucking effect.
