I Traced the Edge of a Single Razor Blade in the First Aid Kit

Dear Delyara, I broke a rule tonight. At 4:00 AM, when the fatigue was so thick it felt like physical pain in my chest, I opened the metal first aid box on the wall and pulled out a small, sterile razor blade from its paper wrapping. I didn't want to hurt myself—I am too stubborn to give up on my legacy for that—but I just held the cold, clean steel between my thumb and forefinger and pressed the edge lightly against my skin until it left a white indentation. I did it because I needed a hard, physical boundary to snap me out of the absolute despair that was swallowing my mind. I needed to remember that I am still made of flesh and blood, that the pain I am feeling is real, and that the stakes of this struggle are absolute. I put it back, wrapped it up, and locked the box, but the cold sensation of that steel stayed with me for hours, a terrifying reminder of how close to the edge I am currently walking.