Even after a little over two years, I sometimes feel the temptation.

My arm got a little cut. A small little ouchie. Nothing to fret over.

Yet. Moments later….

I felt it.

The excitement. The anticipation. The need for more.

The demons giggled. Giggled. They tried to pet my hair. 

The darkness skittered on the edges of sight. Hello, darkness, my old friend.

It was a small little scratch. 

But it was enough to remind me of what it felt like. A small sip. A tease.

I had to squish squish squish the urge and onslaught of emotions down. I was better. I was better. I was. I was.

Part of me wonders if I shall give in one day. Relapse. It is not anytime soon. I know. I know. But sometimes, in my abyss of depression, the temptation almost sways me.