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There are nails in my head. I know there are, because I can feel them. They rattle around like the stupid little things they are. All different sizes, all different shapes. They hurt too. I tried to dig them out once. It hurt, but then it didn’t.
Funny thing, the body. You can hurt yourself severely, as in you might die severely, but as a sort of last minute self preservation tactic your nerves deaden as adrenaline rushes through you, and then you can’t feel it anymore. I guess that’s what happened to me. You see, I got really really really tired of the nails in my head so I had the most dazzlingly bright idea to take them out. The thing about your head? There’s a brain inside it.
I got a spoon and thought the best way was to go through my eyes so I sort of just stabbed the spoon in and scooped them out. Cut them from the optic nerve like it was an umbilical cord. There was a lot of blood, and a few chunks, but I kept going. I also figured, in my delirium, that I had to get rid of my eyes somehow. So what did I do? I’m so fucking glad you asked.
I ate them. They popped. I taste good.
I drank my blood too. Is it really blood loss if I consume it? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
yes.
Anyway, after I ate my eyes and drank my blood, I reached it with my mom’s eyebrow tweezers and decided to try and tweeze the nails out. I ended up just ripping out a bunch of brain matter.
I ate that too. Also, let me tell you, brain bleeds are no joke. But it pored out of my eye sockets and straight into my mouth so I guess it was okay. Anyway, I couldn’t get the nails. I kept digging and digging and digging and digging and ripping and shredding and drinking and eating until my parents came home. They brought me to the hospital immediately.
How am I alive? I don’t know. Maybe I’m not. The Nails are still there. I still eat myself from time to time, but only because I taste really good and I like the zing of pain I feel when I peel back my skin to expose the veins. Sometimes I even get to
bone. The last time I did that I stole lobster claw crackers and ripped out my fibula, scooped out the marrow and ate it like a tasmanian devil. I would do much worse things if I could. I would probably kill myself. I’m not suicidal; I just wanna know what dying feels like. Especially painful dying. Does the pain worsen, or lessen? Hm.
I haven’t been home in months. Not to worry! I’m fine. The doctors say the nails aren’t really there. They are, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is this new problem I have: I have teeth in my intestines. I’m going to steal a knife tonight to get them out.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH