August 13, 1996
I was in the bathroom. The water spots on the mirror just enhanced my distorted image of myself. I had mixed feelings of nervous excitement and uncontrollable rage about the circumstances of my situation and what I was about to do to alleviate the pain, both physical and mental. The razor blade was very sharp, fresh out of the box. There was little pain and I held my arm up so the I could watch the blood trickle down my arm and into the sink. The stark contrast of white porcelain and blood was so awesome I took a picture.