lenoredoll

There are nights when the darkness itself seems too awake. The city lights make the sky hide in pitch black, and the edges of the world sharpen. Im afraid if I get too close to the edges. Ill cut myself and bleed to death. Then in the morning, when the sunlight softens everything, the news will report of some random mysterious death. Authorities will assume self-inflicted wounds even if no instrument is found. The end. Case closed. People look at the ground; shake their head in disappointment for a second; and then talk of statistics.

What a way to go: death by overactive imaginationor insanity.