Frankly, it hurts. I didn’t know that people could do such things to others. I wish that I could vanish or tune out all the pain or just not be here. They say you should count to ten and then react. I counted, oh I did, but it made no difference. She says that it’s only four more times you have to see her. I’d rather cut myself and see all that red, and remember  that I am alive,  a person, and not a merely a vessel crafted to hold all that hurt. I understand why people do the things they do, leaping off buildings  or walking into the paths of vehicles or stepping onto train tracks or overdosing or hanging or guns.