April 5th 1994
I stood in the kitchen late at night
My mother since had gone to bed
My thoughts a jumbled mess of 'what ifs'
I had this feeling
A hunger, a thirst for something
Not yet knowing what
I found myself scratching at my wrist
A manic mess
It felt as though bugs were crawling beneath my skin
I had to get them out
I scratched and scratched till I saw something
This sight, this feeling
This started my enivitable fate
Blood pooled down my wrist
Dripping onto the cold floor
I stopped scratching
This feeling, this hunger
I stare at the liquid
Watching it pool against the marks
I slowly move my wrist to my lips
I lick up the blood
My eyes shot open
This feeling
It feels wrong
But oh so right
I didn't understand why I felt this way
I quickly ran my arm under the water
This felt wrong
I can never let myself indulge in such desires
Never again
Or so I thought