And I can't forget you even after all you did
You tore my life apart and made me feel like shit
But even now I can't let you go
These fucking tears aren't just for show
Blood. The essential creation of life. Don't believe the bullshit that cells are the structure. Behind that, holding it up even more is blood. It allows movement, breathing, and it can kill you in a single second. It keeps you in line, reminding you when to be embarrassed and telling you when you have feelings for someone. It makes love. It breaks love. It keeps you in place and alive. Atleast, that's what I thought. No matter how little people tell me I had, blood was my one good virtue. Skin too pale, hair too frizzy, eyes too dark and then blood. The dark red liquid pumping through my veigns, fueling my heart, reddening my cheeks, always enticed me. Hours upon hours, I would lock myself in my room with a knife and draws lines along my arms, watching the blood cascading down my snow white arms in tiny streams and dripping off to cause blossoms of red on the off-colored blue carpet. I marveled at it, watching for hours. The pain was minor and after awhile, didn't even matter. All that mattered was the blood dance drawing my dark eyes into a hypnotized daze. Nobody, of course, knew about this craving of blood. They thought I was just a regular emo. My friends for the most part cut as well, so they didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. But indeed, I was out of the ordinary. I'm surprised no one ever caught me and put me in an asylum. I was a disturbed child, I truly was. I miss it even now. That wonderful pumping blood. But no more will that essential ingredient to life grace my body. What I didn't know was that there was ways to live without blood. Ways that are too cursed to mention aloud. So I shall write them instead. We started as four normal teens, we ended up as creatures much worse than any dream you've ever had. It all started with that back bone of life, blood.
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