Susie Likes The Moon

Author: SUSIE

I had one of those weird little moments today where everything was just… right.

Nothing particularly happened. That’s probably what made it nice.
I was outside, lying on my back, looking at the sky. The weather was perfect—not too warm, not too cold—and the clouds looked like a gentle blanket over me. Not over the moon. Over me.

The moon kept appearing through little gaps in them, like it was deliberately taking a sneak peek.
There was a white cat nearby, and I had some hot coffee, music playing, and nobody bothering me.

It felt almost stupidly peaceful.
I remember thinking that I wanted to take a picture.
Not just of the moon. Everything.
The clouds, the cat, the sky, the whole scene. Like one of those stupidly beautiful pictures where nothing is really happening, but somehow you want to keep looking at it.

Since my camera was shit at night, I thought of capturing the moment with a cut. I know this sounds weird, but nothing is more memorable than a scar, which I’m going to take good care of.

So I jumped with a bit of excitement from my position, went downstairs, grabbed my knife, went upstairs, went to the rooftop again, and then I took a deep breath. I took a very good look at my view, at everything. Funk music is playing in my ears, and I just took the knife and slashed myself.

Unfortunately this time I did not measure right. There was a lot of blood. But do you think that’s actually unfortunate? From my point of view, no, it wasn’t unfortunate. I actually liked it. I just took a handful of blood and just drew a smiley face on my thigh. I just liked it. And then I took a picture of the smiley face, and then I was playing a bit with my blood, drawing shit, and then I remembered that this apartment building is for everyone. So what if everyone decides to go up to the rooftop?

I ran some cold water on my thigh. I cleaned my shit up. I felt like a killer. Haha. Not in that way, but I needed to leave no trace of blood, but blood was everywhere: on my shirt, on my shorts, on my hands, on my neck, on everything. So I needed to move quick. I closed every light. I mean, they were already closed, but the ones downstairs weren’t, so I needed to make the hall and everything dark. I secretly went to my apartment.

I then cleaned the wound, made it up, but because I ran out of stitches, I needed to go to a pharmacy, and of course I dumped that shit over, and I didn’t care. And let me tell you this: once the wound is big enough and bloody enough, it’s a pain in the ass to actually clean it.

And it was a pain in the ass to wash my clothes as well. Anyways, still, cleaning my shit up is always a good activity that I like. It gives me a bit of adrenaline. But unfortunately, it’s getting addictive. And right now I have too many cuts to take care of. I don’t know what I should do in the future. I should probably buy a syringe or something, so whenever I want to see blood, I would just extract it out of my own body without opening a whole wound (lol). That is going to be a pain in the ass again.

Anyways, I loved the moment. I loved the cloudy blanket. I loved the night, the rooftop, the everything. Everything was so cool and chill. I just fell in love.