The Monster On My Back

I try to ignore it,
The monster on my back,
The one sinking its teeth into me,
A slow but steady attack.

I sometimes try to run from it,
But by now I should know,
It's going to always be there,
Hanging on everywhere I go.

I always try to fight it,
To release myself from its hold,
But I don't think I really want to,
Its been with me since 9 years old.

How could I live without it?
What is reality actually like?
I guess normal people don't deal with stress,
By picking up a knife.

Normal people don't throw up,
Just after one small meal,
Normal people don't hide at all,
Or smoke, or drink, or deal.

So where does that leave me?
Because normal, I am not.
So I'll stick with my monster.
Because it's all I've got