The clouds pass over the rising moon as it is hounding the sun. The sun falls back and losses its shimmer; those last few rays of light are swallowed up by the hungry moon. The sky fades from its golden orange aura to a diseased black. The stars try to break free from the enlighten hold, but are still held back by ever glowing moon. A bleak landscape it was, a few desolate shrubs and some broken trees, other then that, it was brown grass. Why would I be staring into something as empty and depressing as this? 'Cause I'm bored, that's why. Out of my dirtied window I always watch the sun set and a new moon rise, it was just something else for me to do. I close the shades and crawl into bed. It's about 8 now and the light in my room has fled. I lay there for almost an hour before I realize that I need to take a shower before I finally go to bed. I pull myself out from the sheets and trudge toward the bathroom. I open the door and walk in. My eyes rise from the stained tiles to the mirror. A stranger is looking at me. He's laughing at me with those hollow, evil eyes. I turn away and grab my razor. I begin to shave, a little to roughly apparently, as I already cut myself. I put down the razor and finger the cut, wiping aside the escaping blood. My eyes open wider for some reason...I don't even know why, they just did. Then it hits, it was the sight of the blood. I try to wipe away the red trickle, but it just makes it worse. A splash of water hits my face as the blood begins to mingle with the water. Pink cheeks. Strange, the cut doesn't bother me now, it doesn't even hurt. I pick up the razor again and carefully pop out one of the blades. I place just below my elbow and slowly drag it across my skin. It feels like a small stab but continues to a steady slice. I lift up the razor to find nothing, just an indentation. A few seconds pass until I see the blood finally appear. The blood grows along the cut, into a bubble. The bubble grows and streaks my arm with a deep crimson beauty. I don't know what I feel. I'm both afraid of what I'm doing, but it feels good, so good. I lick the blade and wrap it up in a tiny sheet of toilet paper. I gently place it in my pocket, almost caressing it like a child. I jump into the shower and wash off the blood. It still trickles down my arms and until the tan floor. I get out and let the wounds close before throwing on a shirt to cover my new hobby. It calls to me now...when I'm resting...when I'm thinking...I can't stop this feeling.