Words. More words? No. No more words. Words, no more.
Outside: darkness. Inside: black, raven-black, black as ink-stained night.
Beside me, the crust of a half-eaten cheese sandwich curls up in silent reproach.
Semi-digested. Hardening, crumbling, returning to dust. As we all must. But some, sooner than others.
Above me the noose, seductive as your deadly, treacherous smile. Beckoning, siren-like, towards everlasting peace.
All that remains, now. Press Publish, step up, kick away, away, a final gasp, then, no more.
Adieu, dear imaginary so-called friends, adieu. Youve been such a lovely audience.
W00t, first! 🙂
LOL I hate cheese sandwiches too… have you tried adding pickle?
Cheese sandwiches give me nightmares. Stay off the cheese!
If I were you, I’d try prosciutto with buffalo mozzarella and tomatoes on a lightly toasted ciabatta. Then come back and tell me you don’t love it!
Sigh. Such powerful writing. I love you work.
Great post (as usual!), but you need to correct that missing apostrophe in the final sentence. Also, the sandwich metaphor is unconvincing and needs more work.
There are CHILDREN DYING and all you want to talk about is CHEESE SANDWICHES? You have BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS.
Congratulations on winning Post of the Week!
Tolerably diverting, but you’re no Troubled Diva.
after reading dis shitty post i felt like toppin meself to
Too high and mighty to reply to comments then, are we?
Hi. My name is Ria Pollof, and I’m researching an item on suicidal bloggers for BBC Radio Four’s Woman’s Hour. Obviously we can’t pay, but it would be great publicity for your blog! If interested, please e-mail me.
I call bullshit. This is just a publicity stunt in order to land a book deal, isn’t it?
Self-absorbed narcissistic fame whore. You’ll probably ban this.
Suicide is the choice of the Islamofascist. This would never happen in America. THAT’S WHAT MAKES OUR NATION GREAT.
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