...painfully Curious...about How It Feels To Fall.

Soon Madness Has Worn You Down. It’s Easier To Do What It Says Than Argue. In This Way, It Takes Over Your Mind. You No Longer Know Where It Ends And You Begin. You Believe Anything It Says. You Do What It Tells You, No Matter How Extreme Or Absurd. If It Says You’re Worthless, You Agree. You Plead For It To Stop. You Promise To Behave. You Are On Your Knees Before It, And It Laughs.

I Have Not Lost My Fascination With Death. I Have Not Become A Noticeably Less Intense Person. I Have Not, Nor Will I Ever, Completely Lose The Longing For That Something, That Thing That I Believe Will Fill An Emptiness Inside Me. I Do Believe That The Emptiness Was Made Greater By The Things That I Did To Myself.

• This Seems Impossible To Me. It Seems Biologically Impossible To Stay The Same Size, Although I Must. It Seems One Must Always Be Either Bigger Or Smaller Than They Were At Some Arbitrary Point In Time To Which All Things Are Compared. The Panties That Are Possibly Tighter Than They Were. When? You Can't Say When. But You Are Absolutely Positive No Question That It's True.

Somewhere In The Back Of My Brain There Exists This Certainty: The Body Is No More Than A Costume, And Can Be Changed At Will. That The Changing Of Bodies, Like Costumes, Would Make Me Into A Different Character, A Character Who Might, Finally, Be Alright.

The Fact That You Were Essentially Dead Does Not Register Until You Begin To Come Alive.