insignificance

incomprehensible

it had become extremely hard to understand where i had come from.

my senses had become corrupt. i couldn't see anymore. i couldn't hear. i couldn't taste or feel.
even if i had punched myself in the face, somehow ran over my own body, threw myself out a window —
that sense of detachment seemed to have make itself part of me.

it was all real. all the minuscule things i had done to make myself hurt were real, but they did not affect me.
and so, i continued to crush my fingers with bricks
and see how long i could stay under water until i fell unconscious.

but one day,
it all came down like an avalanche
all the pain had come to bite me right back,
my senses were alive again
and i felt all the bruises on my body throb.

i couldn't stop it, though.
i couldn't stop the horrendous, excruciating aching of my limbs
and i felt myself tear up a bit.
a question i have always asked myself,
why do i do this, if i know it'll hurt?

i have yet to find an answer,
but for now, i'll just continue to clean my wounds