Every part of my body burned when I finally put the razor blade back into the box in my cupboard. I sat and continued to stare, my stomach tickling as the blood began to trickle down slowly. I looked down at the "DEAD" that was painstakingly engraved and wondered what the hell is wrong with me. It wasn't that she left, she's just a convenient excuse for all of this; I think. Clarity would give me the answer I'm sure; but if that's what it takes, I'd rather wallow in my intoxicated ignorance.
What was I to you? Or to anyone else for that matter? It's always the same, isn't it? What is it about me that everyone seems to see, that I can't? I stood up and pulled the 7 foot tall bookcase to the ground, scattering the contents of the shelves on the floor; revealing a full sized mirror that had been hidden behind for years. I saw my pale face wrinkled and scarred. I saw the glassiness in my eyes from the alcohol, the blood on my chest, stomach, legs, and arms. And I saw that in all my strength, security, and arrogance how pathetic, week, and selfish I really am. The tears began to stream down, even as my face remained completely emotionless.
When I could not look any longer I picked a drumstick off the floor at my feet and threw it into the mirror and watched the reflection of myself shatter and fall to the ground into hundreds of tiny fragments that continued to look back at me from the floor. I immediately turned and pulled down the bookshelf on the other side of the room, snagging the cord to the heater of one of the tarantula's cages. One side of the cage shattered when the cage hit the ground and Isis ran for shelter beneath the bed. I picked up a vase of dried roses and threw it at the door sending fragments of glass flying, and roses crumbled to dust as they fell to the floor. My rage continued as I wrenched every picture, art piece, and poster from my walls, sending them flying across the room into the opposite wall, or tearing them into pieces. I threw the already broken floor-speakers into the wall and watched them explode into splinters of wood. With one last determined scream I pulled the drum rack down, and threw my snare drum across the room into my computer monitors.
There wasn't much left standing when I finally collapsed onto my water bed. The water began to pool to where I was laying from the numerous leaks, and I reveled in the pain as the water touched my cut flesh. I began to shiver as my body became wet, but I didn't care enough to move. And as I laid there, the tears still streaming, my face still void of any emotion, I lost myself again in the confusion of how I ended up this way. But I know that the wheel keeps turning, and there can't possibly be anywhere to go now but back up…