By Spencer Salokar I grasped the razor in my hand as I studied myself in the mirror. Looking back at me was a figure with a scruffy beard and short brown hair that was thinning in front. My eyes drifted from the image of me down to the razor in my sweaty palm. I could feel my blood pump nervously as I tightened my grip. I knew exactly what would happen if I went through with this. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you do look a lot like him you know.” Rose’s words echoed in my ears as I stood there. The figure in the mirror, the image of me, looked remarkably similar to that of my father. I hated…