Why give damn anti-depressants to a suicidal man, why do you need to blame? Why give drugs that lengthen life when it means I'll face more pain? How much suffering is enough and who do I need to please? What fears do the rest of you have and being unwilling to let me leave? Why do the people in my life make such demands? What if life isn't the same for you as it is me? I never cared to pass tests for permission, just to let me go. Why can't you understand? I've been paying my costs, long before bills came due, trust that I still love you. I'm just tired, exhausted from tolls, telling lies that I've control. Take my flesh, take my remnant personal affects, mark them as artifacts of a lost communication, now gone silent... The crows will dance, in joy of a feast, as they hop upon the site of my remains.
“Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think.” Jean de La Bruyere
