I steady my hand for the operation. I try. There are too many colors… lots of colors… I put my knife into the purple, and go to work. I am carried away on the wings of angels to a wonderful place of heavenly raspberries. I let go. I let my body do what it wants to do. I let go, and traverse into the red sky. I know that he’s dead, but it doesn’t matter. I’m in the land of floating raspberries. Does anything matter here? No. It doesn’t. I stay there for a few more minutes, then see the red in my eyes fade. I catch glimpses of the reality beyond the raspberry world, and try to make it stay out of view. The first thing I can tell is that I’m standing up. That’s good. The floating sounds of my hallucinated world start to fade to sounds of panic. Yes. He is dead. I killed him. The purple was not the right place for the incision.