Depressed.

Grab the blade.

Shut the door.

Lock it.

Blast the music.

No one can hear your cries.

Pull the blade out.

Raise your sleeve.

Drag the beautiful razor across your scarred skin.

Press down.

Oh... Sweet release.

All seems ok now.

Press down harder.

There is never enough blood.

It looks so beautiful.

All the pain... All the confusion... All gone.

Wipe the cuts with your bloodied towel.

Turn the music off.

Wipe your tears.

Hide your razor until some other time.

Leave the room and plaster a fake smile on your face.

Everything is fine.