There are a million different ways to start this. And I’ve
realized beginning something is hard. So I’ll just slip into it, carefully so
as to leave the rest of myself unaware and surprised at where I end up. It’s
like chopping spinach quickly, with all your concentration; you’re watching the
knife rise, fall, slide and rise again. And even though you were in control and
you WERE watching- damn it- it rises, falls and cuts you. Pain, disbelief, as
you see the blood on your finger, then fascination. You run it under the tap to
see the cut. Long and deep just before the first joint of your middle finger,
the blood thickens and rises again, the colour rich and beautiful.
So I will start this just like the unexpected cut,
concentrating on my so called life and its shitty routine I will cut myself
with this short prose and hope its scar is permanent and changing. Maybe I will
learn to write on a regular, maybe it will become the catharsis needed to keep
me sane. Or maybe it will just compound my self conceited ways... let’s see how
it goes
