I want to kill myself. I mean it well and truly. Like bile at the base of my throat, like a sick, growing ball in my chest, like shivers down my spine.

Maybe death is too harsh a word, gorey and blood-tinged, violent and cruel.

To be completely truthful and exact: I do not want to exist anymore. I have lived enough, but I wish I never lived at all.

I will never do it. I can not kill myself. I can not un-exist.

Suicide is selfish, but I think it much worse to burden the world with me.

Written by Crash