I can bind my hands at night with oven mitts and duct tape and I will still somehow manage to scratch that itch. I’m not sure how I manage to puncture a whole through layers of fabric and not only scratch my arm, but scratch until it tears my skin and bleeds leaving residual red beneath my nails. But that’s how it is at night. In deep slumber, I really have no control whether I scratch. It’s not until morning’s blinding sunlight breaks through the window and I wake only to see my skin torn apart.
It breaks my heart every time because I feel like there’s something I should have learned Continue reading