Mere Meanderings Menacingly

I don't feel too good.

Why go on like this? Why go on in pain when it would
be so easy to just end it all, quite simply, with infinite possibilities
to do it? Would it be the same thing as a mercy kill
if only one, depressed person is involved? No, no; it would have so
much more gravity. Why must I feel like a cannonball when I could
become light as air with merely a length of rope and a high
place with which to drop? What keeps me here, dangling on the precipice
of life and death- and falling would be much more preferable? I don't
understand, Mr. Freud- how can we have a suicidal wish and still not
be able to be bring ourselves to pull something as trivial as a
trigger, merely sit inside a garage with a running car, sit in a
tent slowly filling with helium? What is keeping me from finding a heavy
object and hitting my head with it repeatedly? Simply- horribly- put: I am.