ᴋʜᴀʟɪᴅᴀ: ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴅ- ᴇʏᴇᴅ (ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ)

ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

                    It's not an unusual habit to pick at your own fingers. Especially if you're nervous by an upcoming exam, or test results from the doctors office. It's hard to get over, takes a lot of professionals to stop, or at least restrain myself from further damaging. Some say it's a disorder, others say it's just a natural reaction from anxiety. I believe the second part. The more I dig
into the appealing, the luscious, delectable taste of flesh off my fingers, I begin to realize that this is more than a disorder, and I sure as hell know that this isn't from "anxiety". Before I even know it, I've picked my skin... all the way down to the bone. I can't stop. I can never heal from this illness, this sickness... this is not okay. I'm losing it, I can feel it. It would even be insane to say how sweet the aroma of skin smells if you know already, that the person doesn't have any sweetened cream applied. It feels inhumane to even think that, I already know it's not an ordinary thing to think about. I'm not psycho, of course I'm aware of this feeling. Eventually, I would have to go to a mental institution if this... "sickness" doesn't cure soon, I would have to quit my role as a mortuary assistant. I wouldn't mind losing my job to be frank, especially with what my mental status is at right now. All I've ever done was read the patient's bio and cause of death anyways. I've been eating meat more than vegetables and fruit lately. Probably a change in appetite. Med. school is probably to blame, they did serve a bunch of shitty food like processed spaghetti, apples and other fruits that aren't even fresh, chewy chicken, flat drinks, to name a few. Now all I could ever think about is meat, the tangy flavor of its roasted flesh. I don't even need a fork or any other utensils to eat it with... my hands are enough, I could just rip it apart with my nails. They're abnormally long for some reason, I trimmed them just yesterday. I'm not okay. I came to work for my shift but, the familiar scent is coming back to me again. The smell. Who knew... who knew a fresh corpse would have the same scent as meat... I wonder... if it tastes just as the same as meat.