My Experience

I'm pretty sure I remember the first time I tasted blood. It wasn't too pleasant; I'd just lost a tooth, and my mouth tasted like penny. (As to why I knew how pennies tasted... heck, I dunno. Kids these days. Sheesh.) Later, as I got banged up by childhood (Not to discount how messy my present accidents are. I got my first sprain this year.) I, as most children do, would pick at my scabs. Probably less common is that I would eat them. Classic pica, I believe.

At some point, this expanded to include my (non-dried) blood, fresh or slightly aged/mellowed by exposure to the air. It was around this point, I believe, that I noticed that this gave me hunger pangs. So I had more blood. And got hungrier. With enough self-control and chocolate, I was generally able to stop, and keep the behavior to a minimum. I would occasionally have some off of some scrape or other, but it wasn't bothering me much.

But very recently, just thinking about how blood that I see in pictures must smell and taste is enough to excite the pangs that I usually feel after having a couple drops. Halloween is coming up, so I can only assume that this month will be fun. And that's why this blog is here.