I'm pretty unemotional today though hellish dreams coat the mental scenery. Its a passing phase- or so they say. The voices, they like sharp objects and enjoy when I play with them. Scarred fingers seem pretty, its a matter of taste- or so they say. Its annoying, this apathy when the rage boils in the background. No one can hear the sound of hate or so they say. I lost the bet; the voices said that my girlfriend would bleed like a running faucet. Needless to say, I didn't believe them but there she is, staining the carpet Mom won't be happy. Its a passing phase- or so they say. I'm not convinced.