It had been my greatest record but I cut once and can't stop. Now, I am grateful. I savor each cut I make. Surgical and calculated, each cut is identical like me and the billions of people alive. I can't stop anymore. I cut deep and let myself bleed freely. I watched it pool between my legs, I dipped my finger in it, held it at eye level and let the droplets fall back. One by one, the sixteen drops fell to the puddle creating a splatter on me. I closed my eyes and laid my unwashed hands to my savaged flesh. The burning sensation spread to my bones. It heated me up as I imagined the infection creep to my torso. There is festered and fed, taking all the toxic calories out of me. I imagined the blood transform into fat, an oily liquid slowly coating my thighs as it pour out of me. I lifted my eyelids to see no blood. I examined my finger, my skin, my cuts, the blood had vanished. In it's place, I noticed oil, thick and yellow yet clear, but nonetheless oil. I realized my mind wasn't in the right place. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Drink. Blink. Blood. Good, the blood wasn't gone. I sat there on my floor allowing the blood of leak between my legs, stain my carpet, dry on my cuts, dry on my skin, dry on my carpet. I drank. I perceived my body dead, lifeless, and alone. Tears rolled down my cheeks, melting away at my carefully applied mask of normality. I don't want to die, all I want is to be real. The tears spilled off my face and hit my legs. Each tear clouded with red and brought life to the blood. Getting up, I felt the blood loss get to me, and vertigo set in. I stumbled to my bed, an endeavor feeling like a mile rather than a yard. Upon awaking, I knew I wanted to change, change my ways, my carpet and my mind. Here I write this in the mindset. I don't know, maybe an hour from now this post won't be a memory but reality and the present.