~*~*~*~*~*~
No one knows what it's like. What it's like to be me. My name? Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I can hear your snide remarks now, and I don't know if I should laugh or if I should be sick. And somehow, I always end up somewhere in the middle. Laughing at it all, even as I lie retching on the floor. The best episodes of all are the ones with the bloody smears and the cackling. Cackling as cold and heartless as an iceberg in the Arctic Ocean. And no one can ever melt that iceberg, no one.
Right now, is one of those moments. I sit here with my back against the wall and my knees up to my chest as I cackle loudly. I slowly lick my lips as I drag the smooth edge of the razor blade against the bottom of my lip. Sideways, always sideways. I can't bring myself to slice my wrists any other way. I'm too big of a coward to face life and live it and to much of a chicken shit to end it all. As I apply pressure to the blade, my skin slowly parts and red droplets spring to the surface of my skin. Slowly they all converge and the further along I drag the blade, the deeper and longer the river flows. A river with crimson red tides.
And for those brief few moments, I can feel again. I can feel everything, and I don't really care that tears are falling down my face. Because I'm feeling again. I can feel the hurt and the pain, the joy and laughter, the hate and malice, and the violence. I moan softly as I feel them all inside of me. This, this thing that I do. It's so much better than anything else I've ever done to feel. Sure the drugs and alcohol helped, but the sensations were never heightened like this. Never this toxic, never this addictive. But I don't care anymore. Because I can feel again... I can feel...
After a while, the bleeding stops and so does the feeling. And once again, I'm numb and cold inside. I slowly stand up and reach into my robe, replacing my wand with the blade. I pull my wand out and quickly do a healing spell. Now it merely looks as though I was scratched by a thorn, or a scalpel in potions class. I don't think I'd care if they all knew about this. No, I doubt I would. No one matters to me. No one but him...
~*~*~*~*~*~
No one knows what it's like. What it's like to be me. My name? Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I can hear your snide remarks now, and I don't know if I should laugh or if I should be sick. And somehow, I always end up somewhere in the middle. Laughing at it all, even as I lie retching on the floor. The best episodes of all are the ones with the bloody smears and the cackling. Cackling as cold and heartless as an iceberg in the Arctic Ocean. And no one can ever melt that iceberg, no one.
Right now, is one of those moments. I sit here with my back against the wall and my knees up to my chest as I cackle loudly. I slowly lick my lips as I drag the smooth edge of the razor blade against the bottom of my lip. Sideways, always sideways. I can't bring myself to slice my wrists any other way. I'm too big of a coward to face life and live it and to much of a chicken shit to end it all. As I apply pressure to the blade, my skin slowly parts and red droplets spring to the surface of my skin. Slowly they all converge and the further along I drag the blade, the deeper and longer the river flows. A river with crimson red tides.
And for those brief few moments, I can feel again. I can feel everything, and I don't really care that tears are falling down my face. Because I'm feeling again. I can feel the hurt and the pain, the joy and laughter, the hate and malice, and the violence. I moan softly as I feel them all inside of me. This, this thing that I do. It's so much better than anything else I've ever done to feel. Sure the drugs and alcohol helped, but the sensations were never heightened like this. Never this toxic, never this addictive. But I don't care anymore. Because I can feel again... I can feel...
After a while, the bleeding stops and so does the feeling. And once again, I'm numb and cold inside. I slowly stand up and reach into my robe, replacing my wand with the blade. I pull my wand out and quickly do a healing spell. Now it merely looks as though I was scratched by a thorn, or a scalpel in potions class. I don't think I'd care if they all knew about this. No, I doubt I would. No one matters to me. No one but him...
~*~*~*~*~*~
