addicted.

that a cutter will always crave the open door of their skin.

that sober is just another way of saying thirsty

and that relapse is just as far as the breadth of your self control.

when did we accept our addictions as a part of us?

maybe we've fallen in love with them,

we have been taught to define ourselves by them.

never forget, your vices are cancer. they are growths, sucking life.

they will never do anything but sink you, yet still

we don't get better, because we don't want to. not really.

why is the recovery so much harder than the relapse?

replaying old cycles like a favorite song

that always brings the sadness.

'its just the way i am' is the radiation we keep breathing in,

the cancer we've accepted. the pain we've adopted.

apathy dressed as despair that we shove down our throats to be

regurgitated as a justified excuse to give up.

don't ever give up.

humans change, 

we are not the concrete facades we put up around our hearts

and addiction is never so deeply rooted 

that surgery cannot remove it.

what if they taught us wrong? what if we only believe we're unfixable 

because putting back the pieces is just too hard?

listen,

because maybe there is a healing deeper then just another recovering addict,

more than just another vice you will never stop fighting.

my wrists are so heavy with the weight of old habits i want to revisit,

of addictions i don't always want to fight.

but my heart is a jailbreak

and my head will break free of the stranglehold of my thoughts.