Last night I tried to kill myself. It was silent and it was sad. I wrote no letters explaining why or apologizing. I only signed goodbye on a pink scrap of paper, opened the pills, shoved them down my throat, and sighed. Then I sat and waited for Death. I wanted to greet him with a smile, take his hand, and murmur my thanks for coming so swiftly. Instead Sleep came first, a blissful cover for me to slip away. Because I doubted I could meet Death without trembling. So Sleep wrapped me in her arms and held me close.
It seems as though Sleep protected […]