• Empty. Empty and hallow. Two things I feel when I'm wadding through the black. It's as if only one thing pulls me out, the delicious crimson bite of the razor. It pulls me high, into the Grey, and on special days, in the white. Black and white. Two colors I seem to live in. Manic. That's what they said I was, and still am, manically depressed. Swinging from extreme highs, the white, to extreme lows, the black. Pain. Also something I feel, something I surround my life in. Almost joyful relief comes from it. I know I'm real if I can hurt on the outside. Not to mention the anxiety. The panic attacks that send me into sobs. Make my hands shake uncontrollably. Causing me to fall into a spiraling world of anger and fear.People wonder why I fear the mirror. I don't fear the mirror, I fear what i will find there. The real monster that engulfs me. The monster I really am on the inside.Each beat of my heart, each pulse of blood, rushing adrenaline to course through my veins. Each beat causing the sharp edged lullaby to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.