Love is such a strong word. In love is such a strong feeling. Whether you mean it or not, it can either mess up your life or make it greater.

I'm messed up.

I thought love would make it all better.

I craved it. I searched for it. I found it.

With finding love, came consequences. I didn't know how—I didn't understand how love could be negative, but I learned. I learned that things could happen to you that mess up love. Those problems distort your vision on love. Whether it's in love or just love, you'll fuck it up.

I fucked it up.

I lost it.

Alcoholics seem to struggle to keep their families. I never thought that it would happen to me. No one thinks it'll happen to them. I always thought that it would be so easy to choose between the drink and a person—my girlfriend. I always thought that I'd choose blood and skin over alcohol. It was hard. I teeter on both, but I'm trying.

Blood and skin.

Two more addictions I face.

Addictions tear family apart.

Addictions ruined me. They'll ruin anyone if they're not careful—even the sweetest person. I wasn't careful, and I let myself slip into the never ending pit of hurt and pain. The further I fall, the more it ruins my relationship. The more it pains her. The more she want to die…the more she fall into her own bottomless hole. She can't escape, and it's my fault.

Skin. The precious skin that covers a person's body. It's beautiful. The human body is beautiful, and I can't help but slip further into that bottomless pit when that delicate skin brushes up against mine. The feeling I get, the satisfaction I feel, it's all too much for me to take. To hear the noises of pleasure as I handle my love for beauty are all too much for me to take. A feeling of happiness, love, pleasure, and power rush through my body. It makes me feel amazing. It makes me on top of the world.

Blood. Bloodlust. Amazing. The red liquid that breaks through a person's skin. The way it catches the light, or the way it shows through the darkness. I don't know what it is about blood, but I love it. It's so warm. It's beautiful. On myself, it's not as great, but it's better than nothing. So with that in mind, I drag a straight razor across my wrist and smile.

My tan skin splits, and the warm liquid drips out. It runs down to the palm of my hand where it pools gently. My mouth waters as I think about the taste. What would it taste like? Is it wrong to taste my own beauty?

I bring my wrist to my lips and part them to let my tongue slip out. I lick across the incision I made on my own arm. I almost groan at the taste. It tastes almost as good as it looks. Almost. It makes me wonder how Jade would taste. How would she look when I pulled the razor across her arm?

I would slowly undress her. It would be midnight, and her skin would be glowing in the moonlight. She'd be beautiful. She would only need one more thing…one more thing to make her better. Once her clothes were completely gone, I would push her onto the bed softly.

"Jade, you look so beautiful." I would whisper as I pull out the cold metal blade.

Her eyes would shine, and a small smile would spread across her perfect face.

"Don't worry." I would soothe her. "It'll feel good. You'll feel beautiful."

Lifting her arm, I would kiss it softly. Where my lips mark her pale skin, the cold blade pierces and cuts tenderly. The gorgeous red blood would make its way into the world for the first time. The cold air would hit her fresh cut like a bullet, and I'd lick it slowly, leaving her shivering with pleasure.

Again and again.

I'd make her feel wonderful.

Sadly, I snap back into real life. Looking down at my arm, I realize I tried to live out my fantasy on myself. My arm is shredded, and blood is pouring out of the fresh wounds. It's beautiful.