It was a switch.

The pain from cutting my wrists still lingered as I tried to process what I was looking at. A switch. An on/off switch. In my arm.

This couldn’t be a dream. The pain was real. The emotions that were overwhelming me were all too real. But there was still a switch in my arm. I needed to see more.

I grabbed the razor blade and began cutting, with investigation on the mind. My flesh screamed in pain, but I ignored it. I wanted to know what this was inside of me.

It wasn’t an on/off switch like I was expecting cutting my wrists would do. It was a demo switch.

It was on. The demo was on. Had my life, 16 years of experiences, all been a programmed response? What would my life be if I turned it off?

I took a deep breath.

Would it be worth discovering, or would it be another depressing hole that would lead me back to this point?

A sniffle, and a wipe of my face with my black sweater gave me time to make my decision. I’d give life one more chance, demo off. I could always try cutting the other arm if things didn’t get better.

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