Every day.
I dream of it.
A practical suicide.
Suicide from this life.
Not death.
Just separation.
Eternal separation.
Dreams of no return.
Dreams of a perfect land.
A land where I will not be judged.
A land where I can be free to think.
A land of fairness.
I dream of it.
My practical suicide.
My impossible suicide.
Happiness cannot come without death.
Death.
Should I fear it?
It's what I want.
But everything I hold dear,
I live for it.
This is my world.
My world to conquer.
My world to lead.
Doea my suicide come with a purpose?
What is my motive?
Spite?
Vengance?
Sypmathy?
It's all wrong.
Do I have strength?
Am I strong enough to cause pain?
No.
I'm not.
I'm only strong enough to crave attention.
Which is truly weakness.
I am weak.
But my practical suicide is still strong.
If I am distant,
or detached.
You know where I am.
In my perfect land.
My dream land.
I am slowly committing the most practical suicide.
The one that lies within us all.
I am committing my practical suicide while you commit your own.