And So It Begins Again.

I have no song to convey this post, and no catchy lyrics to use as my title.
Merely my fucked up head and my random thoughts at almost midnight.

I always swore I'd stop at 13 ya'know.
It was my lucky number and all that jazz.
I'd stop and I'd be fine, I'd no longer be tempted.
Kinda like OCD I suppose but not.
And yet, despite it being my lucky number and my head swearing to me I'd stop-I haven't.
It's not as simple as flicking a switch off and then it'd all stop.
My concious is telling me no, no more now. That's it, it's over, there's no need.
But the rest of my head is telling me one more, one more won't hurt.
It's ironic really, the one way of saving myself is more than likely going to be the one thing that destroys me for good.
But it feels so nice you know?
Such a relief, like nothing really matters.
It's satisfactory, it sorts my head out.
Or at least it used to; it used to sort my head out.
Now not so much. Maybe I'm beyond help, or maybe I need to find another way of coping with things, who knows? But this just doesn't seem to be doing it for me anymore.
It's less of a way of saving myself and more of a way of destroying myself more and more with each time it slices through.

I'll find a way one day. I know I will.
For now I'm going to try and find sleep, and if sleep evades me then I'll write, and if inspiration fails me I'll listen to angry, dirty metal until I fall asleep eventually. Which isn't going to happen.

I'm tempted to have another cigarrette, just for shits and giggles, even though I don't need one in the slightest. Just for something to do, to occupy my hands and mind and tell myself no, 3 times in one night is enough. 3 times in less than 5 minutes is more than enough.

Oh God, please let someone save me?