I Will Miss You When You Are Gone
My friend cuts herself by the waterside to save her soul. She’s a virgin, and 32, so she desperately needs to be pierced by something. She has an obsession with honesty that has driven away every human being she has ever gotten close to, because human beings love lies so much that they’ll die for them. My friend wants and needs and maybe deserves better than that. Maybe we all do. We all need sex, too, and for a woman this faithfully Catholic, sex is sin, but being pierced with metal, like Jesus with nails in hands and feet, is sacred. Steel is honest, and as the little razor blade goes inside of her, she becomes pregnant with its young: adrenaline, sharp pain, warm blood, hissing breath, alertness, panic, fear, life. She tells me it makes her forget her fiancée. She tells me her soul feels like it’s on fire.
She tells me that it sometimes makes her orgasm a little bit, which I think makes her feel very guilty.