Cutting, painful? Only for the tentative millisecond when the razor befriends the epidermis. Much like dipping one’s toes into a hot bath (much like sex) — once the warmth of the flowing river engulfs your naked flesh, you feel a tingling of bliss, followed by a wave of nothingness.

We are born immersed in blood, so is it not natural that our comfort lies in soaking it up, like the smell of naphthalene on an old comforter?

Cutting, birthing, getting high on naphthalene…such is the privilege of youth. The rest of us on the precipice of senility, rub cocoa butter on the zigzags of yesterday and do the most dastardly acts of all — we live.

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