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Sort of graphic. Obvious trigger warning.
Didn't even try fighting it this time. I felt the urge coming on, the urge to rip off one's own skin. I was looking forward to it, continuing about my usual business. It made me bizarrely happy. In my mind I could see myself smiling twistedly as I raked my skin as hard as I could with a fork. It didn't do that much, I never do. The red marks and skin indents fade in a matter of minutes. For a brief minute fear flashes as I go for round two....made a shape of little house on my leg with stab indents. Do I want a round 3, I told myself "no" but while contemplating it I muttered "possibly" while running the fork down the inside of my arm. and in the process of contemplating I ended up hurting myself even more, because after that moment I proceeded to slap a little rhythm on my forearm, it wasn't until seconds later that I noticed the bright pink line from where seconds earlier, and pid red spots from my slapping. The anxiety didn't stop me until I turned all the little red spots into one big one, but it stopped from a round 4. Anxiety certainly is a killjoy.
Different font for different part.
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