I lived in, but not a part of society for about three months. I fell into a depression. I longed for the dark, wet, and danger, loathing everything I once loved, including people. For entertainment, I tortured myself. It was disgusting how I longed for such agony. Smashing window with a cold large rock, I gathered the shattered glass into a small blanket I found from a dump. Clenching onto a piece of glass pricking my hand, I revealed my wrist. The glass pressed onto my skin only indenting it, to then press with much of my weak strength. The skin tore open delicately, like thin rubber ripping, could almost hear it. I went in a upward motion as the skin wounded easier and easier the high I went. The blood first ooze down both sides of my wrists onto the concrete floor, like a hilled stream with a thick liquid causing the stream to steadily sloth it's way to it's destination. The incredible sight of it gave me this unbelievable, an almost sensational rush. During the process, I took a deep and powerful inhaled feeling my lungs compress as the air filled them. Now, the pain.

I strolled down the street, like I owned the town. I went into a small drug store owned by this old man. I eyed him for long periods of time, purposely trying to bother him. I walked in and out of the aisles until I pin pointed all my wanted material. I then paused for someone to purchase an item. I quickly snatched it all, feeling my heart race when I begun. I then walked cockily through the door with my head lifted up, as I said "Retire Oldie."

I went back to "my" ally, it was in the middle of town, yet isolated from the world. I liked it, it was dark, trashy, and filthy. I gathered my things and opened the box of cookies and reached for one. "Oh god this hurts" I muttered in pain as I dropped in a dead faint.