Hello, hello! Here's my newly edited Prologue, and hopefully it's better than my previous.
As far as Project: Revamp! goes, I plan to take each chapter individually and add to their contents, elaborate where needed, and rewrite parts that ought to be edited. This is my first, so enjoy :D

Twas mid June, and I'd begun to wonder about my favorite little friend. I wondered, how'd he end up where he now is? His surface was still smeared from our last tango, I knew. Probably browned, after so long. I wondered, what made me put him away, lock him up the way I did?
...Right, right... I remembered after a moment. With a bitter smirk, I remembered. I remembered how he treated me, as if I were some precious emerald he loved dearly. As soon as the words left his mouth, I should have known they were lies. But I was stupid, desperate, and most of all I just wanted. I wanted someone to care, wanted someone to tell me not to go, wanted to trust someone else actually didn't want me to suffer.
I sat then, just sat. Right there on the floor, right before the place where nobody knew I hid him. His face briefly flashed through my mind, and my eyes were pricked by tears. How could he have done something so cruel?
After a few more minutes of awful thoughts and cruel exchanges with myself, I could take no more. I retrieved my friend, smiling down at him fondly. I flicked him open, admiring his dulled, messy blade. Pinching my fingers beneath the fabric of my cotton tee, I used the hem to wipe the blood from his surface. My blood. I spent a moment polishing him before beaming, proud of his gleaming surface. Glancing around my room, I relaxed a bit. With my door locked, and my drapes drawn, I had perfect privacy.
Casually I rolled up my sleeve, pushing it past my elbow. I fondly gazed at the scarred, chewed skin of my arm and wrist. It was as if they were meant to be there all along; as if I'd been born with them, almost. They were mine, part of me, part of my past.
leisurely I lowered the tip of my blade to my favorite scar, the one shaped like a broken heart, and I pressed down. As a bubble of carmine licked the surface, I couldn't help the grin that split my features. I began to press harder, bringing friends to join the first. Dragging the blade through crimson blood and porcelain skin, I recreated the broken heart for the fourth, maybe fifth time? As I watched my blood drip to the floor with dull plats, I moved on to trace over another favorite; it spelled out one word. As I carved first the "B," then the "R," silent tears plunged to the floor. At first, there were few; angry, bitter droplets full of hatred and rage. They quickly flourished in a wave of emotions. Sadness, hurt, depression, pain, suffering. The pair of liquids mingled as they reached the worn, faded wood flooring. I could feel myself growing light headed, and ever sluggishly closed him. I fell to my side, curling in on myself. I fell asleep with the only thought, why?