Mismatched Plurals

Ready to die and not knowing how. Such an unfortunate predictament.

Suicide is illegal. Weird. Why? Because people think they're that important. People. Bits of toilet paper I use to wipe the shit from my ass. People. Articulate monkey's talking to deaf gods. Praying. Pretending anyone's listening.

There's no reason at all for anyone to live. We're all useless. Replacable. Mice in traps. Selling each other happiness at a profit.

Suicide is the answer. Because the world could stand a few less people in it.

Why encourage people not to die? Why tell strangers you care if they live? Because mortality is too much to bear. Because god took his phone off the hook and satan's voicemail is full again.

I've always been dying. Coloring in the carcasses of demons. Grey rainbows of skin deciding how sad it was. Being her. The liars looking for the off switch. To change burnt bulbs. To convince rumplestilskins the child is already dead.

Suicide is the answer. To every question I've ever asked.