He looks at himself at the mirror across the room. He walks over and stares at himself a little bit more. There are no tears and no screams. His hand turns into a fist and he quickly lifts his arm to punch the mirror, over and over again. He doesn't stop until he feels the pain of the glass. His mind doesn't stop the hate or the revenge. His eyes start to swell. It turns into a red he will never fully understand and all he feels and sees is the pain that is building up in his heart and soul. He can't stop at this point. His hand starts to bleed. The blood dripping from his fingers onto the floor. He psychotically stares at his hand with anger and hate, but he feels more relaxed. He likes to see the red flow from his arm onto the floor. He enjoys every minute of blissful pain that he is currently feeling. There is no guilt in him. The fulfillment of self inflicted pain is the most pleasurable he has felt in days. His mind starts to whirl and he wants more. He wants more physical pain. He wants to aggression. He wants more hate. He wants more anger to fill his world. He allows his mind.
He is now holding a knife in his hand. The same hand he used to bleed out. He feels nothing but the demon taking over his entire being. He walks over to the mirror and stares at himself holding the knife. He likes what he sees because the whole world knows what is about to happen. He slowly lifts the knife and places the blade on his neck. He feels weak and begins to cry. It's not because he feels guilty or sad towards his current emotions, it's because he doesn't regret it. He wants it. His mind is obsessing with what is about to happen. He starts to imagine his blood flowing across his bathroom floor and he enjoys it. He enjoys the imagine of him dying and bleeding. He wants to feel it. He wants to feel something. He wants to know what is there to live for. He wants to know if there is someone or something out there that can understand why he's in so much pain. He wants to know if someone out there can help him and save him from his problem. Someone out there who loves him enough to not make him feel worthless and incapable of living besides himself. He wants to know if someone can still love his heart and mind. If someone can not show him the hate that he already feels and lives by. If someone can make him believe that there is more to life than what he sees everyday.
He finally does it. He slowly moves his arm and watches as the blade cuts through his skin. He waits.
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