"It may seem to you to be no big thing this turmoil within me, this year of poison and pick locks. As if a fish in a tank I remain separated from more than just the world by the glass and the smallest of plastic treasure chests. I remain separated from myself, from the knowing of things easy, and from the solitude of this secret heart that has held in the highest regard this place that I've called home.
I hope that you are listening. I hope, as I lay here and watch the headlights of cars flash across the ceiling of this impossibly tiny room, my eyes dancing behind this cloud of barbiturates, that you can hear me. If only a whisper, an annoyance in your ear, hear this death within me and know that it is monumental. Like the silencing of a million voices, like the terror of those held helpless and forced to endure the seconds before their own deaths, hear me this one last time. And in doing so, say that you will never forget me."
I hope that you are listening. I hope, as I lay here and watch the headlights of cars flash across the ceiling of this impossibly tiny room, my eyes dancing behind this cloud of barbiturates, that you can hear me. If only a whisper, an annoyance in your ear, hear this death within me and know that it is monumental. Like the silencing of a million voices, like the terror of those held helpless and forced to endure the seconds before their own deaths, hear me this one last time. And in doing so, say that you will never forget me."