Being a little was strange. It was hard to hold anything to yourself. The momemt you slip into little space it's almost as if you'd been given truth serum and it all comes flooding out. I guess that's why it's called a coping mechanism right? It's hit me now that I've relapsed that I won't be able to slip into little space any time soon, unless I want my daddy to know I've broken my clean streak of a year. Today was a struggle of fighting off urges all day, my brain runs wild as I glide the blade along my thigh. Oh how I missed that feeling. I sit there drowning in my thoughts for what feels like hours before I clean myself up, cover myself up and leave my room. He should be home any time soon. The sound of keys outside met my ears and I prop myself onto the couch, the moment I see him the urge to slip takes over and I can barely hold myself together. tell him the truth. rings in my ears. "Hi daddy.." I say softly. so much to not letting myself regress. I go to speak but my words dry up in my throat. keep yourself together.