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I have grown weary of literature: silence alone comforts me. If I continue to write, it’s because I have nothing more to accomplish in this world except to wait for death. Searching for the word in darkness. Any little success invades me and puts me in full view of everyone. I long to wallow in the mud. I can scarcely control my need for self-abasement, my craving for licentiousness and debauchery. Sin tempts me, forbidden pleasures lure me. I want to be both pig and hen, then kill them and drink their blood. ↗
The accumulation of birthdays is the leading cause of death in the United States and other large land masses. Now while that may not be 100% accurate, it is at least 88% accurate. Actually, the last sentence itself might not have been 100% accurate, but I’m 88% sure it was. Maybe I should just brush up on fractions and percentages before making statements that are liable to hurt the funeral industry, because if birthdays aren’t killing people then it’s bad for the mortality business. And if you can’t trust somebody to die, then you can’t trust somebody. But I’m somebody you can trust. I’m at least 88% trustworthy, at least 88% of the time. ↗
Holding my pendant, I lay on my side without moving, noiseless tears streaming down my face until the pillow grew damp beneath my cheek. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, to be with Alex, to experience so much more than I had so far. But just then, it was Alex I was crying for. All that he'd gone through, all those deaths of people he loved--and now he was having to experience it again, with me. Thinking of what he was going through was like being beaten up inside; it was even worse than imagining whatever might happen the next day. Part of me hoped that he really did hate me now--maybe it would help; maybe it would make it not hurt so much. And more than that, I guess I was crying for both of us...that it hadn't turned out to be always, after all. ↗
Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on; death is better than defeat! Fight on brave knights! for bright eyes behold your deeds! ↗
I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part. ↗
Any way I slice reality it comes out poorly, and I feel an urge to not exist, something I have never felt before; and now here it comes with conviction, almost panic. I mentally bless and exonerate anyone who has kicked a chair out from beneath her or swallowed opium in large chunks. My mind has met their environment, here in the void. I understand perfectly. ↗
