The Real Me

I scrape the razor over my face, again and again, tearing and pulling, enjoying the pain. Flaps of skin lie in the sink like scraps of wallpaper.

Inside I scream madly, yet on the outside I am deathly calm. Blood runs off my cheeks in steady streams, yet still I rip at the flesh, a man possessed.

I smile, but the sharp pain is too great to keep it up. Must keep going...it'll be over soon...have to get rid of this cursed face.

I know there's a better person underneath. Under this façade. I'm certain of it.
The real me.