Masochist

When does a poison stop becoming worth the swallow?

Is it when you feel nauseated?

Is it when you're in chronic pain?

Is it when you stop trying to escape the poison and eventually everyone else ends up giving up helping after you?

Is it when those same people end up leaving because you won't stop drinking and they can't handle watching you burn and cry over and over again?

Truly, when does the poison become worth it? Was it ever worth it?

When does the strength to stop picking up the bottle come to you?

At this point, will you ever have the strength?

No, it doesn't even seem possible, not if you keep reaching for the burns and cries.

But you secretly like it all, don't you? You're a voodoo doll reimagined as a human.

You yearn for the cries, the burns, the chronic pain, the misery. You feed off of it all.

You never wanted help. Not at this rate, even if you begged for it.

In the end, you pick up the glass bottle of poison all over again. Your life stopped the second you tried again with the bottle.

Are you proud of yourself yet?