Thursday, May 31, 2018

Stigmatised the brown

I'm still having occasional goes at my foot skin; I've yet to successfully consciously stop myself from doing it for more than a day.

Last night I got off a postage stamp sized layer from the back right heel. I had a brown slipper on.

I saw it later, the imprint of stamp-sized blood across the white fur of the brown slipper's lining.

It looked a bit like a messed-up passport stamp too, from a no longer European country from the industrial past. 

Maybe it will serve as a visual reminder to stop picking my fucking feet until I bleed and then even more after that.

It's a not uncommon habit to have—to pick at the body is part of the OCPD adventure—but it's still deeply fucked up and I wish I could conquer it. I stopped at the face but only by moving back to the feet even though they're harder to get to with an early-fail skeleton. 

Sometimes you feel like you just got a turn in the boat and the fucker on shore is yelling "TIME!"

But at least I got into the boat and had a go; that's better than not.


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