when i told you it hurts...

i meant it.

You know what its like?

Its like a really bad wound. One all wrapped up in gauze and held together by stitches. You peal back the gauze just a tiny bit because you want to see if you can take it, and because being unable to see your own skin is making you feel uncomfortable...

Until eventually the gauze is pealed back completely and you can't put it back where it was anymore. The wrongness of seeing the stitches on your arm makes you scratch at them, pick at them until you're pulling them undone...

Blood is everywhere and the pain is unbearable. But you just can't stop picking at the stitches, because you didn't want that impairment. And because it didn't feel right to you, it didn't feel normal. It felt wrong. And it hurt.

But you can't stop it. You need to hurt, because maybe someday you'll stop hurting. Maybe someday the scarring will heal. But until then, you have to keep picking at the stitches, pulling yourself open again and again...