[dropcap]I[/dropcap] felt the blade press against my neck.  Its coolness sent chills through my body.  Goose bumps popped up on y neck just before the blade was drawn across.  Shocked at the immense pain as tissue and nerve were ripped apart.  I stumbled forward and braced myself on the bathroom vanity.  Filling with blood the white sink stained crimson.  The warmth of my life flowed down the front of my chest, replacing the coldness that was there before.  The room began to fade.  Just as death was about to take me I leaned forward into the mirror and wiped away the fog, to catch a glimpse of my killer.  I looked deep into his eyes and suddenly realized that the killer . . . was I.

So the intent here shouldn’t be hard to miss.  Obviously going for a take on irony in case you missed that in the title.  Again, thinking this one was around 1997 or 1998.  Very bad years for myself, looking for fulfillment in things that just would never do the task and unfortunately it would be years before I figured it all out.  One could say that I got out alive but not without some deep scars that I still deal with to this day.