You emerge as if from under rubble, as if from out of disaster, survivors guilt and doubt all wrapped in one, the knife comfortable in my hand, like it is part of the body, ready to slice again through old wounds, ready to dig into thick scars, you know you make the recovery harder but it is impossibly hard to resist, impossible to evade the satisfying relief at the other end of harm.
We run and run in this life
But it’s hard to feel like we don’t just end up right who we started.
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