A wooden lazer cut sign that says love

I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for a hundred people to come to my house and beat me to death. I leave my door unlocked every night. There are no easy ways to excuse yourself from existence. You can stop eating, but boredom will get the best of you.

My psychiatrist asked me why I want to die. It’s hard to say, really. Hard to explain. I wish it were easier but maybe one day I’ll be able to record my perception and thoughts perfectly, and then with a walk down the street on a cloudy evening, he will get the sense of the world’s many imperfections. The car horns that are random and out of place. The engines roar past you as you walk. The click click click of near busted transmissions.

Nothing is where it should be. It’s like the god of whatever Hell this is said ‘good enough.’ The skies leak and make your socks wet. Ingrown hairs curl into your skin making deep pockets for pus and blood. A full bus with foggy windows streams by forcing water from the gutter up onto the sidewalk. The cement is uneven, and puddles form so that you have to play hopscotch to keep from ruining your shoes.

After the rain, everything seems so glassy. The neon shop signs reflects off the asphalt. That light is so oppressive to the cells of your retina it seems personal. Like the laser sight of a pistol is being trained right between your eyes.