an undated journal entry transfered to digital

"I woke up 60 times this morning. Each time, crying out for God to please conquer these things. Waking up to lust, disappointment, the strongest urge to check my phone, and the repeated offense of seeing that some pretty girl had not found this loss as unacceptable as I had."

"But this is probably what I needed. That slap in the face to finally get me to leave. I feel like I'm going to die. Like something infused in me has been ripped out, taking slabs of tissue and muscle with it. But just like yesterday, I know what made me bleed. I just act like I don't. 

I lie because a self inflicted wound won't impress a soul."