...I like cannibalism. And writing obscenely short things. And strawberries, but that last bit is kind of irrelevant.

This is basically a bit of Ryou's contemplation while he's locked up in his soul room. Even though I don't really see Ryou as the type to self-cannibalize.

Whatever. Just enjoy the oddities.


In an act of desperation, a cannibal may eat himself.

I am, by no means, a cannibal.

Though, here I am. In a dark, dank, cold, quiet room.

Alone.

And I am so tempted to raise my wrist to my lips,

And bitebitebite and devour whatever spills out.

Blood, veins, muscles, flesh, and all.

Perhaps because I am hungry.

Perhaps because I am insane.

Or, perhaps, because I just need reassurance that I am alive.

And that blood indeed flows through my veins.

I can't do it.

I should do it.

I hear that human flesh is quite delicious.

There's some sort of something in it that makes it addictive to other humans.

Which is why cannibals stay cannibals.

I don't want to take a bite and be unable to stop.

I don't want to eat myself.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die here.

I don't want to die alone.

Besides,

It doesn't matter whether I'm a cannibal or not.

At this point, I don't even think that I have a body to eat.

It's not my body.

Not anymore.