I am intimately familiar with my knife.
I’ve traced the carbon lines on its blade repeatedly.
My knife is a well balanced work of craftsmanship.
no detail overlooked, and I’ve wielded it for ages now.
I’ve played with my knife, learned tricks with my knife.
I’ve tried to both banish demons, and end myself with my knife.
I look at my knife sitting there just within arm’s reach.
The basic leather wrap, worn and stained from my white knuckle grip.
My knife is no longer in my grasp although I gaze at it longingly.
Today, I made progress.