Straight Edge

I’m standing there with the razor, wondering if I could do it. Wondering why I would do it. What would be the reason?

It’s a safety razor, though, and I’m already halfway through shaving.

Maybe if I worked really hard, pressed down firmly, moved it back and forth with enough force, it would release the reins.

“Reins”? No, veins. I meant veins.

No, I’m not going to kill myself. I’ve never really wanted to. It’s just that sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like. Not just the dying part but everything leading up to that.

I’ve suffered from depression, and yes, with that came some suicidal ideation, but there was never any intention. No real desire. No determination. Just thoughts.

I don’t even know what it would take to get me there. I’m not sure anything could. Does that mean I’m too strong to do it, or not strong enough?

I’ve always been fairly straight-laced. I work in insurance. I wear khakis. No tattoos or piercings. 
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to toss all that away and be someone else. The kind of person who just doesn’t give a fuck.

I’ve often wondered that. When I was in high school, for a little while there, I thought about trying to be that kind of person. Hanging out with the “weird” kids. Dressing like them, talking like them.

It never worked out. Talking the talk isn’t enough, and you can’t simply be different. There has to be something driving you. Something that inherently makes you behave a certain way and see the world with a certain perspective.

Or can you? Is it as easy as flipping a switch in your mind? Would it really be as easy as simply killing off your old self and walking back out into the world as someone else?

I wonder what it would take to get me there. Maybe if I stopped shaving? I guess that would be a start.


Originally published at www.plummercobb.com.