My brain tell my eyes that my skin is pink, with a little slim of light brown here and there. But my brain also wants to play with me and goes further than this things I've been knowing all my life; like the way my skin color must be. And so, I watch it deeply. Closer and deeper. My veins pump like crazy. I can actually feel the blood running under my pinky skin. It hardens. I feel it harder and colder. It's so strange that I'm not scared. Touching it with my fingertips gives me the impression that I can crash my blood.
My ice cold blood.
I take a quick look in the mirror and I see my face has a grin all over. I think I am enjoying my new image.
The palms are covered in some kind of white powder. It must be fresh ice. Yes, it is! I stare at it like a scientist stars anxiously at his lab rats. I am my own lab rat! And I'm loving it! Every new chilling sensation, every cell that I control, that listens to me and my brain. My beautiful brain. My desire obedient brain.
I felt how sick and tired I've been of this pink (!pink!) skin and of my fake identity. Want to show myself. My old and in the same time, new self. "Expose" - that's my desire.
Gently, I line up my two new pointy iced indexes, on my forehead, under the hair line. Just above the ears. And I sting myself. Keeping my eyes on the mirror, watching every step of the way, I cut my skin in different spots. The grin still stays on. With all of my fingers, each one in the wright hole, I grasp out my face. My whole fucking face!
I'm shiny. And tough. No longer juicy or mushy. I am ice. Delicious hard ice.
Soon, I take off all my useless skin from my body. I take a good look at me, the one I was hiding away from. Now, I don't understand how the hell did I want to live covered in lies and delusion all this time.
I am beautiful. I am ice.
My mirror tells me that I am an ice sculpture. No color. No heath. No veins or heart. No nothing. Just beautiful chilly --- ice.
