Why do we have such a hard time leaving some things alone?
In my case, a book. Used to be if I started one, I had to finish it, no matter how boring it was or how much I disliked it. I couldn’t stop until I’d read the painful last page. But the older I get and the more books I want to read, I’m getting better at it.
In Alex’s case (he’s my son), something that hurts. If he has a scab, he’s gotta pick it. No matter how much I tell him to stop (that actually makes him do it more), or try to explain to him that he’ll make it worse and possibly the body part will fall off, he can’t leave it alone. He’s covered in scars from tiny scratches that he turned into major wounds.
No, nothing has fallen off. Yet. And maybe the fact that I tell him it might and it never does is why he never believes me and, thus, never stops picking. Unfortunately, I can’t cut off any of his body parts while he’s asleep just to show him I’m right (he’ll wake up if I do and then the whole experiment will be ruined), so instead I’m stuck with a kid with scars. And I have to watch him make himself bleed, which might actually be more painful for me than it is for him … If it hurt him that much, he wouldn’t do it. Right?
I’m just going to leave this here.
Here are some leaves.
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