I wish I could explain the trembles  that run through my body and muffled screams that escape my lips when I wake from a nightmare. It always has the same storyline: you are dead.

"I swear I'm okay,  well I think I am. The blade is so close to my skin. I promise I'll feel better after I hurt myself a little. Just a little pinch. Please. Just a fast and smooth razor against my clammy, thin surface. It won't happen again. I promise. There will be no scar. Stop trying to help, I'm f--"

I swore my veins almost burst into demonic butterflies that faded into the universe.

You let me feel alive.
I'm okay.
I think.