The blade felt.... interesting. Scratching my skin as it glided across, slicing it's own path. Relieving me of unknown itching. I bring it back to where it first made contact and started gliding up again, stopping halfway...

Hmmm... I don't remember feeling that...

Small spheres of blood erupt from my skin like boiling water.

I whatch them waiting for some sign of pain... none came.

I sign and lay into a bath of warm, comforting water.

Ah... there it is. The slight sting of the blade's scratch.

I sit up after a while, all traces of an injury are gone.

I go back to gliding the blade on the top of my skin. Cutting the hair that has grown over time, scratching those unknown itches.

Now I must ask, what are you thinking right at this moment?

The blade slicing into my very skin, not feeling a bit of pain...

Hmm, how curious...

Does this reflect on you in some way?

If it doesn't maybe your a bit too innocent...

But at the same time... this can happen to anyone...

And no, I'm not referring to shaving. Or cutting, if your that dark and gloomy.

I'm talking about something much more frightening.

But thrilling in many ways.

I am talking about one's psychological ability to see right from wrong. Good from bad. And the thin, thin line in between.

When one is blind to those three principles.

And they may never know it. Until one day... they lose it forever!