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An entry, posted April 2007.
060407
Blood blossomed from the smooth, soft skin's surface.
Fascinating, the way it oozed out, seemingly to grow like a small shoot from a seed. Barely there, but becoming more pronounced with every second, somehow growing from beneath the depths of soil where one could not see.
A retribution, a punishment. A reward.
Blood is something sacred. Its' red deep and opaque, clear and bright. Stop. Red means stop. Yet the very sight of it, growing, spreading, compels one to see more.
To feel more.
Can you feel this? You can see. Maroon drips of life.
But can you feel.. A person feels. Happiness. Sadness. But nothing? Who feels nothing?
You can remember, though.
Memories.
Which ones surface now, to break the stilled liquid of one's mind. I would rather freeze over. No more memories to bubble up. But the mind is not a switch. To turn on and off at will. Same for memories, and emotions.
Where are you now?
Why did it happen.. Think.
Why... You were weak? Was it your fault, yes. No. Yes, another stroke of retribution. You should have been stronger. Another scrape of punishment. This is your reward. Red seas of foaming memories and dark nights of feeling. Nothing. Feeling nothing at all. Take another strike. Blood slicks your fingers, can't grip. Cut, once more.
Your retribution, your punishment. Your reward.
Feel deserving. Spill over, lose yourself, escape. Into that sea of red.
Stare, unwavering, unblinking. Into the past.
See what you were. What you are. There are no lines to draw comparisons and yet, you are the same. The same person you once were.
Or are you.
Who are you..?