Shoolis wrote:
Tiny razorblades that travel down your throat and shred your insides.
And then those tiny razorblades had a tiny little baby razorblade son, and moved to a tiny little razorblade town where they lived happily for quite some time. Before long, that baby razorblade had grown up to become a teenage razorblade, and the perfect razorblade child for which a razorblade parent could ask. Time flew, and after several years, that teenage razorblade was graduating from razorblade high school. His razorblade parents watched as he received his razorblade diploma, shedding tears of pride and joy at the sight of their razorblade child finally being awarded his rightfully earned diploma. They knew that all their hard work had finally payed off, that their son had bloomed into a fine blade. After the ceremony, they gave their razorblade child a long, meaningful hug and congratulated him on obtaining his RED (Razorblade Education Diploma). As the months turned into what seemed like only a few weeks, that fated day finally arrived for the razorblade graduate, as he left for razorblade college. As he said his final goodbyes to his razorblade parents, razorblade tears were shed by both parties as the razorblade graduate boarded the razorblade train. The razorblade train began to depart before long, and the razorblade child solemnly put his hand on the window and mouthed, "I'll miss you," to his razorblade parents, who mouthed, "We'll miss you, too," back. As their razorblade son disappeared into the distance, they lingered for several more minutes, staring at the horizon silently with razorblade tears still running down the side of their metal face, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. They had known that this day would come, but they still were not quite ready for it; nothing could have prepared them for their separation from their razorblade child, though he was not so much a razorblade child any more. He was a young razorblade adult now.
But things did not remain pop flyin' and carefree for long. As he settled into college, the young razorblade adult found it more and more difficult to deal with the stress of razorblade college life. He turned to perscription razorblade drugs to help him cope with the crushing pressure of razorblade college, but not even that could help him. He soon fell into depression, and found himself moving onto more and more dangerous drugs. His razorgrades had since plummeted, and he soon received a phone call from his razorblade parents, where they told him that they had gotten a phone call from the razorblade college informing them that his razorblade academic grades were surprisingly low. Unable to overcome the shame of his drug habit, he insisted that he was just having a bad razorblade semester and that he was already in the process of addressing the problem. Begrudgingly, they trusted him and told him goodbye, wishing him the best of luck. As time moved on, the razorblade son found that his drug addiction was becoming worse, and because he had long since run out of razorblade funds, he had been reduced to doing degrading jobs like cutting cocaine into lines in dark alleyways for razorblade cheddar. It wasn't long before he reached rock bottom. One day he happened to look at himself in a razorblade mirror as he had just finished using some of his razorblade stash. He noticed how he had aged, and not for the better. He looked tired, weary. He wondered what had become of himself, what had become of the fine young razorblade who had been so overjoyed and optimistic at his razorblade high school graduation. Razorblade depression overtook him as he silently made a decision about what to do. He stumbled into his razorblade bathroom and filled his razorblade bathtub with hot water, slipping into the warm water once the razorblade tub was filled. He had made his choice, and he decided that there was no turning back. He was going to kill himself, free himself from his cruel charade of a razorblade life. He was going to slit his razorblade wrists and put himself out of his razorblade misery.
But he couldn't.
Because he was a
razorblade.
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