I didn’t know I liked blood until I saw it running down the knife. I cut myself—not deep, just enough to bleed. I watched it slowly drip, and I couldn’t stop looking. The red was bright. It looked almost pretty, like something made to be seen. As I watched the blood stain my skin, I kept thinking about how strange it was to feel this way. People always say pain is a bad thing—that it means something is wrong inside you. But sometimes, pain is the only thing that makes you feel like you’re really here. Like you’re not just floating through your days without meaning. It grounds you, makes everything sharp and real. The pain becomes a signal, a reminder that you exist. And for once, my mind wasn’t racing with worries or fears. It was just calm, focused on the red drops falling and staining me. What scared me more was how much I liked the feeling. How the pain brought a strange kind of comfort. It was almost addictive. I found myself craving it. I felt alive. And that feeling... I wanted more of it. (—lamuerte)