Her Cry Was The Saddest

The Best Thing Would Be To Break Your Neck, But You'd Probably Just Break Your Leg And Then You Couldn't Do A Thing. You'd Yell At The Top Of Your Lungs, But Nobody;d Hear You, And You Couldn't Expect Anybody To Find You, And You'd Have Centipedes And Spiders Crawling All Over You, And The Bones Of The Ones Who Died Before Are Scattered All Around You, And It's Dark And Soggy, And Way Overhead There's This Tiny, Tiny Circle Of Light Like A Winter Moon. You Die There In This Place, Little By Little, All By Yourself.

I'd Made It Back To The Land Of The Living. No Matter How Boring Or Mediocre A World It Might Be, This Was It.

Each Individual Has Their Own Unique Color, Which Shines Faintly Around The Contours Of Their Body. Like A Halo. Or A Backlight. I'm Able To See Those Colors Clearly.

Adults Need More Complex Narratives. They Have Their Own Narratives. The Main Characters Are Themselves.

It Was As If I Were Writing Letters To Hold Together The Pieces Of My Crumbling Life.