what it means to take a life

I’m feeling done.

I feel like now that you know or have some idea that I’ve had those thoughts at the bottom of the well—that that, and my not having the guts to follow through with it, are the only things that truly stand between me and the void.

I’m so tired. No one cares that kids got shot in school. Everyone wants to show off how passionate they are about it.

What keeps you from the jump? The everlasting fall?

I keep walking it back until it’s back living inside my chest again—in the hollowed-out place where it can drive me insane with the sounds of its wailing echoes. It has nowhere else to scream.

I need to walk into the forest and kill my own deer.