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Monday, April 26, 2010


I looked at the sleek blade in my hand. Had I really dropped so low to this? To this criminal act? I wish I could turn back the clock. Back all the way. But it doesn't work like that. Never has, never will. So this is how I cope? Isn't there some other way? I sat there, in the middle of my carpet, staring at my hands. Staring at the sliver of silver. Begging. Laughing. At my agony. I started to put it down. Ever so gently, I wouldn't want to...wait...I have no idea why I'm being careful. But I might as well. Then, at the worse possible time, my arm jerked. Far away from my body. Sometimes I wondered how it was possible for such a move to be achieved in so little time. I screamed out, part in fear, and part is sheer vain. I plunged the sliver of blade into the arm that jerked. Maybe if I cut it up enough it'll all stop. Or something like that. I gathered up the courage to look down at my arm. I had decided to do this today. Without reason, I figured this would be easier than reality. And I was right. As I watched the blood dripping onto my other hand, just below, I couldn't help but smile. This was a whole new kind of pain. The pain that you can't get by falling off you bike, or cutting your finger from chopping peppers. No. this is such an intensely beautiful pain. I didn't dare put my weapon on my spotless carpet. I gathered myself and hurried to the bathroom. All the time staring at my arm. It didn't look like mine anymore. Unattached to this body. You lucky arm... I dropped the demon I was carrying in the sink and let the water flow over it. I never realized how much of a gorgeous color blood is. Mixed with water, spinning down a drain, like a piece of art. I put my arm in the water and let it soothe away the guilt. The pain, no I wanted that for myself. But the guilt, that I could happily live without. After the blood was gone, you could barely tell that the skin was broken. I grabbed a bandage out of the overhead cabinet. As I did so I caught a glimpse of my grinning face and couldn't help but grimace. How could I be so sick that this was the one thing that gave me joy? There was reality hitting me again. I grimaced. I slapped the bandage on with out a wrinkle in my stone face. I stood looking in the mirror until my arm jerked. I sighed and went back into my room. My little demon had done its job. Now it is my turn to let out the grief, guilt, pain. I sat down on my floor, in the same spot as before. I hummed a couple of lines to "Mama", then screamed. Cried. All of the above. Then everything was out. Now I just wait, for another low to come. Another phase of the curse.

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