61. The blood I drew

I raised my hand and saw that there was blood there. My hand was covered in blood...I don't know where the blood came from. But... I'm very familiar with this feeling.

My heart raced as I looked at my bloodied hands. It was very difficult for me to ignore that feeling, as if I had experienced it before. Then, my memory suddenly felt so shocking.

I vaguely recalled stabbing someone and leaving them seriously injured.

This blood on my hand seemed to symbolize that memory again. The pain and sadness associated with that loss felt so strong within me. I felt an emptiness in my heart, as if nothing could fill my life again.

The blood on my hands reminded me of a wound that hadn't fully healed. But underneath the sadness, I also felt an indescribable connection to the person who had left. There seemed to be a tenderness amongst this blood, sweeping away the sadness in my heart. I felt a sense of calm in this sadness.

Looking at my bloodstained hands, I remembered that life is a journey fill