7 Beers

Doktor, what does it say about me that the only way I can think I’d be free is by dying (unscreaming, some balmy spring evening – while everyone happily thinks I’m alive)? It can’t be a good thing. Good things are fleeting. Deaths are more permanent; permanence has meaning and I want to mean something, too. Don’t you? You can say that you knew me if people should ask. You can say that I owed you some time and some cash and was never quite worth it. Oh, when I hurt it makes everything else seem quite absent.

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~ by perfectionatrix on May 8, 2012.

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