lindex

I once saw a women kill her self; you may have heard me mention it before. It comes to my mind pretty often for someone with as short an attention span as I, but its not the horror of the incident that I remember, its the way I felt.
Like most memories its a bleak flat sort of picture, all washed out and crisp like it was a home movie on a fancy new digital camera. I was riding the Max with my girlfriend talking about something un-important like the rain, and I looked through the window of the train and saw a group of people looking up, and then it happened, she jumped, she hit the ground with a thud though it could have been a smack because noise is pretty muffled in memory or trains.
I just stared at her motionless body, I always picture it naked, white and clean like a body in a morgue though we wasn't. It seemed really simple then, I cannot describe it, and the world stopped in my mind, it was pure logic. I wasn't shocked, scared or remorseful. I was at peace.
So when things are hard, and I feel like my insides are made of acid, I think of that time, and thank that woman for the gift she gave to me.