A/N: I do not encourage self harm/suicide. If you feel suicidal, please talk to someone or call the hotline (1-800-273-8255). If this makes you uncomfortable, don't read. If you do, then enjoy I guess idk lol. DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ! simple.

I collect knives.

My knives that are sharp and can easily cut or slice any object. They go perfectly with my weapons supply but they don't give me the same thrill as my knives. They're not as sharp and don't cut easily into my skin. I don't even feel the pain anymore but it's still aesthetically pleasing to watch. My skin is basically like paper at this point.

It upsets me when I have to wrap these ugly bandages around my arms. I want to show this beauty to the world but they label this as "self harm". They would call the police on the spot and I don't want to go through that. I only go to school so I seem a little normal. It doesn't matter because it's not like my parents care. Well I mean parent because my mom is dead and my dad is an alcoholic. He just sits on his favorite lounge chair and drinks while watching Looney Tunes.

He's a weird asshole but at least he doesn't put his hands on me. I would have to use one of my pretty knives to slice his throat if he even tried. He knows about my collection of weapons and my padlock on the door so I think that's why he doesn't go that far. He's too dumb to try tricking me so he gets drunk.

Although he stays away, he's still a douche for making me walk to school everyday. I walk alone but I prefer it that way. I put my headphones on, drowning out the irritating noises of the world. I listen to my orgasmic pleasure music until I get to the gates of school. They don't allow us to use our phones so I put mine in my backpack.

The rest of the day is a blur. School means nothing to me but I need to keep up the good girl routine until graduation. No one needs to know what I do in my spare time so I avoid contact unless it's school related. I don't need friends because they come and go when we share different opinions and are different sides of the popularity spectrum. All these idiots care about are looks, social status, and dating. It's gross and repulsive as I witness our brains rot from this bullshit.

Regardless of how I feel, they don't distract me from what truly makes half of my life. My suffocating crush on a female student that shared the same misery as I. She understands my definition of beauty, that is the human flaw. Although I have fear of taking it farther than acquaintances, I try everyday to be near her. She doesn't know about my cuts but I think it's better that she doesn't.

Call it an obsession but I love her to the point of wanting to rip my skin off and slither inside her body to become one. A little creepy but it's how I feel. It makes my skin break out in goosebumps as I think of us into one. I feel heat covering my body as I think of our beauty and intimate moments together.

Our wonderful, wonderful beauty.

Call me crazy but I wonder if she'll enjoy my collection. She can pick out her own favorite weapon and maybe become assassin's like in the shows I sawy dad watch before and it wasn't stupid cartoons. He can wear sexy clothes and learn martial arts. We can be intimate partners in crime, running from our real world problems. Just our love.

Okay I'm rambling. Back to the knives, I get home and I finally use them again. I unwrap my bandages quickly, wanting to feel the pleasure I missed all day. This is a sick obsession but I don't care, I'm too far gone. Ah the pleasure. The feeling of release. This unyielding good feeling is what the world is missing. This isn't just self harm anymore, clearly it's more than that.

I'm just crazy. I'm standing outside of her house with a letter in my hand. I'm standing in front of her front door with a mail slot embedded into it. I'm scared to slide it in and scare her. I could have just had the mailman do it for me but I felt that if I did it, it would be romantic. She likes romance because I saw her read a romance novel during class. I slip the letter in and quickly run away, not wanting to be seen.

I waited the whole weekend for a response. Maybe she was so disgusted and threw it away. Maybe she shredded it. Maybe I made her speechless and she's taking her time writing back so it's perfect. Hopefully I pray for her response to be loving. I really want to show her my collection.

I walked, again, to school because my dad got our car stolen. That dumbass left the keys in the car and the door unlocked at the grocery store. He wanted someone to take it basically. It's even worse because it's beginning to rain and I forgot to bring my umbrella. I arrive at school three minutes late because a fucking squirrel tried to take my breakfast bar.

I get to class exhausted. I hand my teacher the late slip and sit in the back of class. I share the same class as my beloved so it's not too bad. It was weird that her and her friends were staring at me and whispering. I felt uncomfortable and pretended to not notice.

Lunchtime came around and I decided to sit in the cafeteria instead of the library. Little did I know, this would be the worst decision I make. I sit down at a table close to the window, watching the rain fall down. Feeling the unwanted attention, I see my beloved walk towards me with the most gracious smile. I perk up because she never came this close to me. I pray that she is coming towards me with a love confession.

That was entirely wrong.

Her face went from gracious to vicious. She pulls her hand from her back, holding an open milk carton. As she raised her hand with the milk in her hand, I wanted to ask her what she was doing but it was too late. She throws the milk at me and I get milk all over me. She starts laughing just like the rest of the students in the cafeteria.

She called me a freak. A weirdo. Saying that she got my letter and immediately burned it. She crushed me into a million pieces. I feel my heart shatter dramatically. This is what pain feels like? This is not pleasurable. This isn't the same pain I get from cutting. This is humiliation. A new level that I don't know much about but never want to witness ever again.

I get up and run out of the cafeteria while other students throw different things at me. I have been publicly humiliated because I expressed my feelings. I have food and milk on my because I trusted my fucking confidence. This is utter Hell. Fuck her and fuck this horrid world. I will watch it burn.

I ran home. I don't care if I get in trouble because school can kiss my ass. I go straight to my and open my collection. I lock my door to avoid interference from the drunk bastard. I pick up the sharpest knife I have and leave. I put on my ski mask as I stand in front of the school gates. I hear the bell ring and a wave of students flow out. I see her walking with two other girls. I ran towards her and plunged my knife into her. Her gasps are music to my ears. They remind me of mine when I cut. So beautiful and pleasant that I want to hear it again.

I ignored the screaming of students and embedded the sound of her gasps in my mind. A mental sound file that I will savor forever. Removing my knife, I raise the knife to my neck. I see teachers run towards me, coming to stop me. I laugh because it doesn't matter anymore. I know she'll be happy wherever she goes in the afterworld. I don't doubt I'll meet her on the side because we were cut from the same fabric. We love the pleasure of cutting.

I stabbed myself through my chest, feeling dizzy and my blood staining my hands and uniform. I smile as I fall down onto the ground. I hear someone call the police and it's black.

Am I insane? Wouldn't you want to feel pleasure? Isn't it nice? I can't for sure that you disagree but you should agree with me that pleasure comes in different ways.

Mines just so happened to be flesh and blood.