It is after 3am.

I have been dancing since 10pm.

I have not eaten or drank anything since 6pm.

I am exhausted,

Yet awake.

I sit with my back to the wall,

The drum and bass pulsing through my every bone.

Realization hits.


With great force,

As it always does.

I want to die here.






I close my eyes.

Revel in it.

Savoring the images of my imagination,

The sensations around me.

"Promise me something,"

I say later,

After 4am,

On the blurry drive back.


She says,

Already promising without

Knowing what's coming next.

Maybe she regrets it later,

But the instinctual yes,

That is a true friend.

It is the purest form of love I know.

"If they can't fix it,"

I sigh,

Thinking of my inherent defectiveness.

"Take me to a rave to die."

A stunned flurry of curse words and "oh my god"s

That only make sense after a night like we've just had.

It takes her a moment to wrap her head around the idea.

She starts to rationalize why she should - or could - though I know she doesn't want to.

"Want me to get you fucked up on a bunch of drugs too?"

She asks.

I can't tell if she is serious or inadvertently mocking me.

"No, I just...

I want to die in a place,

Where there are so many sensations

There is no more pain.

Where the music is so loud

I can't hear shit.

When once,


I can't feel my





I don't want to die feeling it finally stop.

I don't want to die with everyone staring at me.

Saying 'She was so young.

What happened?

Think of all the things she could've done

But never did.'

So much I never did...

I don't want to die like that."

"What would I do without you?"

She says quietly.

And she means it sincerely.

I feel a little bad.

But I know,

Once the shock is over,

Once the pain fades away,

She'll move on.

She'll live her life just like she always has.

With or without


Everyone will.

When I don't answer her,

She puts her hand on my arm.

"You won't die."

She means that too.

Really believes it.

I guess one of us has to.

"Don't tell that to me,"

I respond.

"Tell it to my heart."

She leans her face into my chest

Repeats the phrase right to the tear in my soul.

"It heard me."

She says confidently.

But hearing doesn't make it true.

Only one of us can be right.

Maybe they're all right,


Maybe it won't actually kill me.

But something isn't right with me and


I'm so tired of being broken.

This is not a way to live.

It is a way to die.

I'd rather die now

Than live my life,

Having to experience it

By observation alone.

So one way or another,

I suppose I'm dying.

But everyone dies eventually,


I guess while everyone else is stuck in

Stage One:


I've jumped straight to

Stage Five:


At least I know now

How I want to