Knives and Red Shoes

Chapter One

The knife touched my wrists and gave me pain, but I like pain. It makes me laugh. The color of my blood is so bright and happy, how come I can't be? Is it weird that I have a knife collection? Is it okay that I love pain? These are the questions I ask myself, but it's okay. All of these make the person I am today.
It's not like anyone cares whether I'm hurt or not. The hard decision is not if I'll make someone worried, but which way will I hurt myself because there is so many ways. It's nice that there's a variety of ways to feel pain. It's weird that it kills me(literally) when people hurt themselves, but when I hurt myself it makes me happy and so proud. Without pain, I would have no happiness.
I have many knifes to choose from (although my parents don't know) my favorite is my kitchen aid knife with sharp teeth and six inches of cold steel and so sharp, sharp enough to hurt, but it doesn't. I have no idea what I would do if the state of pain didn't exist. My best friend, Lauren, tells me to stop, but I don't listen. It seems out of millions and billions of people, even out of my parents, Lauren is the only person who seems to care or even worry.
We need more Laurens in the world.Laurens are the opposite of me, because i'm obsessed with pain, but Lauren is obsessed with happiness. If there were more Laurens in the world, maybe I wouldn't hurt myself. I guess we'll never know...