You know, it wouldn't take much to fucking kill me. You'd just have to push a little harder than usual. Stick around a little longer to make sure I've really gone over the edge this time.

I'll send a postcard.

We're not exactly 'good people,' but no one's taken that much notice in years. I said, HELP ME OVER, and you looked at me as though maybe I wasn't totally useless after all. I've never said much that was worth much…

I think I'm internally bleeding.

You push and I fall, and for a little while it feels like floating…but then it's falling (again) and when I finally do hit the pavement, it's such a small sound…but it's just as well.

Silence is easier on the eyes.