suicide

It's all well and good to have profound thoughts on a regular basis, but I think it's not enough. Well, I mean: I'm going to commit suicide and set the house on fire in a few months; obviously I can't assume I have time at my disposal, therefore I have to do something substantial with the little I do have. And above all, I've set myself a little challenge: if you commit suicide, you have to be sure of what you're doing and not burn the house down for nothing. So if there is something on the planet that is worth living for, I'd better not miss it, because once you're dead, it's too late for regrets, and if you die by mistake, that is really, really dumb.

When a small group of people come together to relive the Salem witch hunts, God cries. For if anything is sorrowful to God, it is evil done in his name. When you find out you were not given the truth, how will you live with yourself?

Home is where I take up such a tiny portion of the memory foam; home is a splintered word. His pillow is a sweat-stained map of an escape plot, also a map of love__ dear abandon. (When did he give way, at which breath?) Forgiveness may mean retrospectively abandoning the pillow and abandoning the photograph of someone with curious eyes, kissing my toes, poolside. I paint my toes Big Apple Red. I don__ know what to do about the shock of red nails on clean, white tiles except get used to it. (And when he gave way, was there room for feelings or the words for feeling?) While I brush my teeth, I can see him in my periphery at the other sink. The outline of him lulls and stings. (And when he gave way, was it the end of the beginning of suffering?) I draw his profile near, I make him brush his teeth with me, he spits and makes a mess. I could love another face, but why?

You don't understand," Alecto replied vacantly. "It isn't that I want to die... I just don't want to exist.

But that slip of paper wouldn't disappear, ever, and neither would the image of his prostrate wife, and neither would the thought that if he could, it might greatly improve his life to end it.

But when she finally got the wings to fly she realized she had nowhere else to go to...

Well, well, my dear. Are we so brokenhearted as that? Is the loss of that terrible prince really worth your life?

Grief takes many forms, including the absence of grief.

Being unheard is the ground floor of giving up, and giving up is the ground floor of doing yourself in. It__ not so much, what__ the point? It__ more like, what__ the difference?

Fear manifested itself as a physical presence that seemed to dominate the public sphere. Time almost stopped. Even without confirmation I could sense that something had gone terribly wrong.

Do you think that God would separate me from my husband if I killed myself? I feel as though I am going out of my mind at times. Wouldn__ God understand that I just want to be with him?

I wish to go down under the waters__he cool, crystalline waters that I knew, where allthat is, here, existing, isis only to be lost within the susurrationsand the rumours of water and the evening starwe wait for...

Why__ you want to kill yourself? Didn__ you feel anything, or didn__ it hurt you?_ Mandy questioned, looking puzzled. __es, I suppose it did, _ it was strange, it was sharp, that__ all I can think of to describe it_ and cold, but not cold like ice, more like_ I don__ know, like something much worse, something horrible_ and it seemed like the ground was falling upwards, becoming the sky_ for a moment it made me consider that it was just a dream, that I was on some sort of drug, and then I remember being overjoyed to see the sky was still above me, then just really sad, really tired_ and then I don__ remember much else about it,_ Alecto told her, glaring straight ahead at the sky with narrowed eyes. __ don__ mind, I__ not supposed to mind, anyway. Mearth already told me that eventually I would want to be dead, that it was inevitable_ still, I sometimes wish that I could have done something good for other people in my life, it might have made up for all the bad stuff I__e done.

Maybe comfort exists in believing there is order in the world, even when someone is making the most disorderly decision we know: running toward death instead of away from it.In their absence, we're left trying to pin meaning to air.

If you were me you__ do the right thing, help your friends, because you__e not a coward,_ Mandy sighed sadly. __ covered up a murder because I was scared to go to jail and I did the wrong thing_ well, now__ my chance to do the right thing, to save someone__ life, because I don__ want you to die.___ave someone__ life? I__ no one,_ Alecto laughed morbidly. __ hundred and twelve years is definitely way too long to have survived. You__ be wasting your time and risking your own life_.___his is my life,_ Mandy declared, smiling sincerely. Alecto just looked concerned and very doubtful as the rain drizzled down the roads and sidewalks, towards the harbour where it fell into the ocean, indistinguishable from all the other water in the world.

With Pollution, emotion is irrelevant, it is not their nature,_ Mearth sighed, making a face as if she were talking to an ignorant small child. __ didn__ create them, humans created the Pollution. Cheryl Nobel, Alecto Steele, Albert Sanders, Olivia Campbell, all my pretty little Representations, there aren__ many of them left these days but they__e still very dangerous! They__e here to tell society all about its mistakes! You don__ understand the world of Representations.

Simple" Kate had wanted to say, "I'm already dead.

A star's light still shines even if there's no one to see it, but without someone to remember Jesse, his light will disappear.