Shaun
I say it’s beautiful. I say it’s an expression of reality. I feel real. One day, I will be real. Not today. Not for now. No, now, I shall sit here, with razor and laptop in hand, warding off tomorrow. Tomorrow won’t come until I tell it to. Tomorrow won’t come until I place my razor back in it’s blood-stained box with it’s sisters. And tomorrow, I shall do the same. I will trace lines of beauty into unblemished skin. I will design myself into oblivion. I will bring myself to my knees with beauty. This is beauty. This liquid delirium, this is beauty, I swear to you. For these moments of ecstasy, I will pay my price. It’s worth it. Fear for beauty. All beauty is terrifying. I will scar myself with tools given by mankind. These razors, these double edged swords. I pay my price. Hidden underneath a level of fear, is pride. I get arrogant in the face of danger. Careless. I am in danger. In danger of others finding out. Danger of pressing too hard. I push myself to my limits. I only need a drop to know I’m alive. I do more than a drop. I brush the metallic blade to my thigh. One. Two. Three. Twenty times. Bleeding. But not too heavily. Look, that’s me. The blood rushes out. Faster now. Let it bleed. Don’t wipe. No bandage. Scar, my beautiful marking. Add another to the collection of memories. I name the scar, in honor of another day. November Fifth, welcome to America. November Sixth, your due date’s today.
