Lying on the floor, I just stay there. In my right hand, a knife, covered in blood, but cleaned off. It looks like a whisk, licked clean of it’s frosting. On my left hand, a large, overwhelming cut, deep, soaking with blood. I stare at the fissure, choking on blood in my mouth. I just stare. And look. And lay there. Lay there in the blood-soaked puddle. I don’t care. I don’t care at all. I just keep the metallic taste in my mouth and my eyes darken. The world spinning. Further, further away. And finally. Gone. And I enjoyed every second of it.
Hey friend, just checking in on you. How are you doing today?
It seems that you had a pretty intense dream the other night. Even if it felt right/good at the moment, I’m glad you decided to just let it out here. This dream is a dream. An escape from your mind that surely looks after some kind of relief these days.
I hope you manage to stay safe, as much as possible. Please don’t forget to reach out to crisis lines if you feel like things are getting really dark. You’re not alone.