User:Skittles the Neko

It was like any other day. It was always like any other day. It never changed. It never changed. It wouldn't ever change, no matter what he did. No matter what he had did or what he was going to do. Time would never change for him, as though he was forever cursed to remain in this day doing the same thing over and over. Yet it was always same, sometimes he would do it, other times he wouldnt. He wouldn't call it a curse either. In fact, perhaps it was a blessing? Counting up the days, he would say this event had been happening for 2 years, 730 and still going. Always, never changing; it was November 28th. Always, never changing; it was snowing. It was always snowing. The snow that was so pure and blank, the pureness that was tainted by the crimson liquid he had always spilt on that day. Such a delicious looking liquid which would always be spilt by his own hands. The first time it had happened, the image crystal clear in his minds eye. A silver blade, the cutting of flesh, and the playing of organs. Oh my god,  it was such a beautiful image. If I was a painter I would've painted it. If I was a writer, I would've written it. If I was a photographer, I would've take a picture. Instead, the moment constantly replayed for me every single day. The cutting of flesh. Soft. Rubbing against metal. Blood. Crimson. Tainting the frozen water. The intestines. Soft. Slippery. The stomach. Warm. The heart. Fresh. Beating. And the expression was the best. Eyebrows knitted up in pain. Eyes widened. Sweat dripping. Mouth grinned in a timid grin. Hah. . .the mirror portrayed the scenery just great for me. ..