First Post-Introduction-Wishing for Death in the Rain

Dear reader,

Have you ever walked the streets in the rain at night? I love the way the streetlight glows on the concrete, and the sound of my feet splishing into the shallow water. When the street is empty and my own footsteps sound like rhythm, I can hear my voice again. The tightness in my chest relieves its constant fighting, feeling like the expansion of myself with every breath. I just keep thinking about the ache I feel. Pushed into the margins of my sight, I pretend that I feel no pain. Pretending that every sorrowful image I've seen, and every mournful sound I've heard isn't rattling around my skull like dice in a cup.

Inside of my ache, buried beneath the spherical waves is the source. Cracking its bare knuckles against my door, asking to be heard, persistent as my urge not to listen, it takes pieces of me. Splish Splish the feet feel strangely warm, electric, like they are naked in warm sand. Where am I walking? Do I ever want to get there? Dizzy from whatever aches, normalizing wobbling. I want to cry all the time, I wish I could have to the urge to feel again like when I believed it made a difference. Now I watch myself slide into the mud of careless guilt. Why would I struggle against the inevitable? Why would I writhe my limbs to hold onto what I know will make me slip? Wishing my choices weren't defined by my options, I walk straight down a sidewalk on a rainy night.

Here I am becoming evil, struggling to survive and dragging my children into the grave, pain searing my mind with constant torture, with nothing but sweet death to revive me, wishing I was good enough today to do what I should've done yesterday, Yet here I am, typing in a library. Ah well, I bet you are wondering what this has to do with you? If you've accidentally read this, I'm sorry.

My name is Mr. Muffins, and I wish I could just die.