It’s already written all over your face. You don’t even need to say a word for someone to figure out that you’ve slipped back again. You’ve lost it again. Gone back to square one.
Even just the thought of it gets you through the day.
But along with it comes the emotions of regret and disappointment after the satisfaction, you have to deal with it later on: the consequences. Consequences you face from the hole you dig yourself, deeper and deeper each time.
And you can’t seem to quit. Not cold turkey and not gradually. You just can’t seem to let it go.
Not giving into it, one minute your proud of yourself; the next you’re frantically searching for something to soothe the urge.
But nothing does. Because it’s not about quitting, it’s about filling those cracks that just seem to go deeper and deeper every day; until one day you figure it’s not just a crack but it’s broken. And you’re trying to heal an arm cut open with a bandaid.