addicted

there's a heartbeat somewhere, hidden beneath the sobs and the darkness. there's a figure, and I can't quite make out what it is, but it follows me. and it's haunting. and it's beautiful. I can't help but notice that the chair by my bedside is empty, as it has been for awhile now. there are lies that are tattooed upon my face that people can't see. there's the sound of a shriek somewhere inside of my head. there's a heartbeat. there's a a sob. there's a scream. and then comes the deafening silence. and it's over. before it starts again. these soundwaves have found homage on the crease on my wrist, on the skin that molded into the bones of my arm.

tell me about your pain, but make it pretty. let yourself cry in pretty mascara stains down your cheeks and a song in your sleep. let the darkness swallow you but only after everyone has gone to sleep because no one wants to see you like this.

and you are addicted to the pain. to the plea. to the torture, to the mercy.

"the difference between an addict and one who is drowning is that the one who is drowning knows it. the addict will drink the sea until it becomes him."

- dina xx