One for the road.

"Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. This won't hurt in the slightest," a devious look with a sharply added, "I promise, quick and painless."

Where, oh where, have I heard that well rehearsed line before? Cloudy, dirty memories flooded my unconscious and I instinctively shuddered, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"Was that the theme to your prom?" I asked while holding in my chuckles, my breath, waiting for my joke to reach ears.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm THE asshole."

Swift hand, rip of skin, and all I could do was stare at the bandage. Bits of my sweater had somehow found their way to the adhesive and clung on for dear life. That hurt worse than I imagined, but I liked it. I loved it. For the first time in lightyears, I was feeling something real. Something throbbing, stinging. Numbness was Japanese to me at this point. Foreign in all aspects.

I stared at the wound for what felt like decades without leap years. Rats, it showed signs of healing. What would it take to feel this again? For a moment I could relate to the psyche of a cutter. Nah, fuck that, I am too vain to accept scars.

Breaking my trance and perfecting my doe eyes I coyly forced words from my insides, "I don't think it's ready, yet. Might need another bandage for awhile, maybe two."

"You'll.. I mean, fuck, it will never be ready."

Silently, you know me too well.