"How was your day?"
"Fucked up. Shit hit the fan. Wanted to die again."
"Aww, I'm sorry about that. Why don't we watch some porn and self harm to get the pain to go away? If worst comes to worst, maybe overdose on some pills you don't even recognize?"
"No, I don't want to, I should do my work and try to better myself and be productive."
"No. You won't. You'll just keep digging your own grave."
'You're right, let's get the razor. I should clean it soon. Or maybe not. I don't wanna."
"Yeah, why go do all the extra work of cleaning it? It's not like you'll get tetanus, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Where to cut today? Thighs? Stomach? Ah, maybe try something new, switch things up, grab the cleaver and go for the throat."
"Good idea..."
Normal conversation between my brain and my heart.