May Write Away 2

He flicked another gray hair off the razor, trying not to think, trying not to assume, trying not to remember that his thirtieth birthday was days away.
No awards hung on the walls from triumphs of his twenties, except for a bachelor's degree that had taken eight years to attain, and had yet to profit him in his search for any kind of meaningful work.
He looked down at the small cluster of gray in his sink surrounded by the other remains of his beard removal. His phone chimed for the thirtieth time, and for the thirtieth time he ignored its pleading for him to check out the achievements of his peers, now giants in their career fields and/or multi-time parents.
They couldn't help that their successes left him feeling empty inside.
It wasn't there fault the overload of social media left him depressed.
But if they weren't posting their successes on the great digital notice-board, they were posting "inspirational" messages, ostensibly for everyone who wasn't them, that left him feeling pissed on top of depressed.

He set the razor on the sink counter and embraced the touch of burning, searing blue lava erupting from Mount Aquavelva.
At least it made him feel alive, something neither his dead-end job nor his attempts at hobbies could do.

Pain was real.
Pain reminded his heart to beat.
He picked up the razor again, turning it, watching the four blades reflect the dim light of the single remaining bulb.

He set it lightly on his opposite palm, feeling the cold blades against his skin.
He pressed.
And dragged.
Four thin red lines appeared without any of the alarms in his brain telling him he'd been hurt.

No. Not enough.

He reached into his jeans pocket, removing the Buck folding knife she had given him.
Before she'd stepped in front of that truck.
He flicked it open, a click of interlocking steel against itself.

"Yes," his voice choked out.
He drove the point into his palm, the short blade impaling his hand and oozing blood from both sides.
"Yes!"
He drove it into his wrist at the joint.
"I'm alive!"
He closed his eyes, grinning, and slammed it into his stomach.
"I'm alive!"
Taking it in both hands, blood soaking his shirt, he slammed it into his chest.
"I'm ah-"