people who drink light 

beer

don't like the taste of

beer.

they just like to 

pee

........a lot. 

sounds like college.

beer. 

beer.

pee. 

it's a vicious cycle. 

positive outcomes only. 

The blade hovers close to her skin. Her hands shaking as she moves closer. Never has she done this before. The thought never really crossed her mind before. Never understanding the allure to causing pain upon one’s own self. Not until today, her breaking point. The memories swirl back, countless repeats of the incident clouding her mind. He raised his hand up, and she watched it come down. Until it was too close to see anymore. Things going black. His fist meeting her skin over and over. The beating seemed to last hours. The endless hail of fists. Her knees finally giving out. Sinking to the floor brings a new assault, his steel toed boot catching her ribs. A few cracking as they give way, everything falls to a blur. When his rage finally subsides he slips out of the kitchen with an inaudible apology and promise. A promise broken so often. Leaving her slender body on the floor.  The cold tile against her back brings her back to her senses, her fingers still shaking as she clutches the blade. The entire house is silent. She can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock; counting with it she steadies her breathing. Takes a breath in, and with the exhale she presses the razor deep into her skin. She holds in a gasp, fighting the urge to cry out. Warm dark blood pools against her pale skin. She closes her eyes, listening out for the clock. The steady ticking to steady her heart, to steady her hand. The blade rests against her skin again, slightly to the left of the first cut. She begins the cut smoothly before making a beginners mistake. The blade slips far deeper into her wrist. A cry escapes from her lips as the smooth silver razor hits the floor. A steady stream of blood runs down her arm dripping to the white tiles. She grabs the nearest towel to press against her skin, her blood staining the towel a rust red. Her panic from the deep cut slowly subsides as the pain ebbs away, merely a low throb now. She rests her forehead against the cool tiles, truly understanding pain.  

the simplicity of sitting for an epic picture. the simple things that

make you stop. and take a breath. 

one week, thrown together on a plane. never met before. couldn't tell it from this picture could you?

i can easily substitute other people in for this. better friends perhaps. 

but how this rare experience threw us together makes

this picture all the more unique. 

seven days. complete strangers.

you left with people you will run into in a store in ten years. somehow

recognizing

each other. only to walk away, maybe after a nice dinner. only letting 

chance

dictate if you see each other again.