...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.
