"Bloodletting: My Vampyric Love"
I sliced my arm and watched the blood flow out of me. I could smell the metallic scent that immediately clung in the air.
I can't take this anymore.
I watch my fingers manipulate the blade, almost skillfully this time, again. My mind was fozen.
I hear my voice in my head. It's chanting now.
Do it...do it... again...
I made another mark...
I know not why I do it, but I do know I seek some meaning in the blood and the cuts. Where is the purity? Where is my truth? I've been called a slut, a whore, a goddess, a princess, an idiot, a witch, a priestess... the list goes on. What am I? Am I not blood and bone? Am I not simply flesh and pus? I've been loved and hated. I've been an angel and a demon. I know that I am all that can be created. Is it my crime to exist or is existance my punishment for something even more universally sinister? Am I constantly on trial?
What is it in this blood, in my essense, that makes me who I am? What is this liquid that evokes the worship and abjection of so many. I don't want to be me. I want to die. I want someone to stop me.
By cutting myself, I know that I have moved beyond the natural. No mortal chooses to die for no cause, no reason. I have become a monster. I know that. I am beyond the natural that I thought i connected to. I am no long human. I crossed the line.
The scars. I hate the scars. I hate the memories. I hate the loneliness.
Drink me up. I dont want to live.
