I’ve been close to death a few times. Once he had his hands around my neck, squeezing until everything went black. Drug overdose – a few times. Why do I get so close only to be pulled back into the world of the living? So do I want to die? Yeah – I suppose I do. I want to see what it’s like. My morbid curiosity may get the best of me.
Sometimes I’m so happy – hyper. Other days the depression makes me feel like my heart is in my stomach. I can’t move. Everything seems wrong. The noise, the light – it all hurts me. I want to be one of those perky people. No, wait I don’t – they’re too annoying – like little gnats buzzing in your ears. I want someone to take care of me, but I want to be alone. I want to walk in the sun – but it’s too bright.
I pour all of the pretty pills out of their bottles and into my hands. They’ll take care of me.
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