Putting on a fake smile is more painful than the razor against the skin.
More painful than bleeding inside, it feels like ice spreading through you, swallowing you from the inside.
Feeling a blade pressed against the throat at that time is welcomed, a blessing from the hand who is holding it.
Cutting open to let the blood cover the body, maybe it can cover the smile everybody sees, maybe they can finally see how I really feel.
Maybe, but I can never see. I'm dead.