I know you by your habits; the grooves you have cut in the world; the familiar boredoms I would miss beyond all else.

Each morning he stepped out, felt the air on his skin, and gave thanks for this new reprieve.

The promise of lawn sprinklers in the sun, that’s all over now.

The ego has 100,000 tricks, and once you’ve learned them, 100,000 more.

Help line
If considering jumping, press 1.
If considering overdose, press 2.
If considering strangulation, press 3.
If considering firearm, press 4.

Passing the funeral parade, he noticed a woman in dark glasses stopped at a red light, weeping without consolation or restraint. How he envied that dead man.

She held up her hand and said, no photos. I don’t want to remember anything about this.

When I was about ten years old my Grandfather told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said that whenever he was going through something painful or unpleasant he always reminded himself, it’s what you deserve, you miserable piece of shit, and that always made him feel better. I used to wonder why that made him feel better, but think I’m starting to get it now.

What’s the problem?
No idea, really. It’s quite the mystery.
How does it manifest?
Microagressions, slamming drawers, muttering, occasionally striking oneself on the head with a crystal paperweight. The usual.
Does it leave a mark?
Only above the hairline.