This Disorder Is A Monster (Trichotillomania) Poem by Trichotillomaniac The Poet

i'm tired of trying to hide my pain
behind beautiful metaphors
this disorder is a monster
it's a demon that possesses you
that won't allow you to sleep,
eat, or even play with your pets
without it taking over.
it's something that cannot be stopped,
no matter how hard you try
it's inevitable. you spend your life
on a daily wait for it to come back and attack.
this disorder is sitting on your hands,
rocking back and forth
because you cannot control yourself.
this disorder is climbing
on top of the dresser,
leaving the lights on,
while hours go by just
to see the hair you want
to get out more clearly.
this disorder is having your nose start running because the hair you pulled was too painful.
this disorder is an inexorable cycle.
this disorder is jumping into the deepest ocean and not knowing how to swim.
this disorder is being buried alive and continuing to hurt yourself, instead of
trying to find a way to escape.
this disorder is being shot repeatedly
with a M134 Mini-gun
that shoots 2,000 to 6,000 rounds
of shame, guilt, and regret per minute
there is nothing beautiful about this disorder,
no matter how much i try to disguise it as so.
loving the pain that comes from it
sometimes feels like i love abusing myself.
this disorder is hell,
mental fire that won't go away
until you get 'just one more'
this disorder is questioning why you continue to do this to yourself if it's so destructive
but then remembering
that you have no control.