What were you thinking you selfish…? If you knew the pain of the living so well, how could you impose more pain upon those you knew and loved? We already know the cruelty, loneliness, and meaninglessness of the world, you didn’t need to remind us and make our suffering worse. Perhaps if you could have given the world a chance, you might have found something worth living for. But these words have no meaning anymore, and your life is wasted by the ignorance of your own hands. The thought of you makes me sick to my stomach, and when she talks about you over and over and over again as if new memories are still being made, I cringe at the self-developed picture I created of you in my mind. The noose, the reel, the plunge, the decision. I didn’t eat for days, I think. I cried only in private, which was very seldom, granted, but my stomach remained uneasy, queasy, and unsettled. Suicide. What a perfect way to end the day, a self-inflicted prey, useless and drawn astray. Tainted buildings dwell in tainted towns where local derelicts still see you around, but I am a stranger to these desensitized freaks, alone in my nature where charity weeps. Alone in my nature I silently keep.