like smoke, let it stick to your skin

i always continue bad habits. i no longer cut myself, although the kitten scratches on my arm are hardly visible. i never wanted to go deeper than the surface, ive had worse injuries by accident but i could never give myself a good one on purpose. i switched to hitting, it was easier to hide and only i would have to deal with the knowledge that there was a purple lump on my head because i’d gotten so mad at myself, i decided it would be worth cracking my skull over. eventually it all stopped, but i still wanted to hurt. i didn’t want to clean up blood, though i always wanted to look as ill as the rest. i didn’t want to cause any more brain damage, id like to still be literate. eventually, i started smoking. it was never something that was pretty to me, rather i knew it was the easiest way to kill some part of me. i don’t know what comes next, but im sure eventually what’ll take the place of smoking is change—help.