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Lighting the candle, moving with the precision of a fine Swiss watch. Letting the incense light as the candle burned, I lock the door to ensure my solitude, I take the knife out of my pocket with movements that are rehearsed, the one thought on my mind is the release that is coming
As I feel the cold lifeless steel pressing against my flesh, slowly precisely tearing the skin apart. Feeling the pressure slowly be released from me, feeling like every passing second the more I cut the less pressure I feel till I no longer feel like I am me, instead I become my own worst enemy The feeling of the blood trickling at first each drop creating it's own trail like a meteor shower in the black velvet sky. The longer the cut though the faster the blood pours out, after the trickle comes the rushing, then the pouring till it looks like red rain. The longer I cut the more intense the cutting became, at first it was a short slice, just enough to draw a trickle, watching that one drop make it's way down my arm feeling the blood go from boiling to stagnant.
Then the inevitable, the knock that brings me back to reality, ripping me away from my own special place the way my father was ripped from me as a child. The feeling that it creates, that pressure instantly back and multiplied due to the vacuum. The absolute worse feeling is the having to hide what I had done because of society.
Society the one time a mob is acceptable, not only acceptable but encouraged. Society the one that says a person who spills blood is a psychopath. Society that doesn't understand people are still humans no matter their problems. Society the one that wants to lock me away saying I am the one causing my problems To society I say take a journey into my mind, the mind of a "psychopath" see how painful it is for me, see what I have to deal with before passing judgement.
After the candle is blown out, the knife is hidden the incense is extinguished, along with my last resort for the day, the door is opened to see a family a family that has no idea what happened behind that closed door. The door I closed years ago the one that can't be open cause of what it holds behind it, The one that holds my own worst enemy.