050; Anonymous poem.

There is a bottle of pills inside my stomach.

I should know; I put them there.

I put them there to make me die.

That way I won’t have to think.

About deadened silence.

And raging storms.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

Maybe the true answer lies buried,

hidden there,

amongst the things,

In the closet of my mind.

Full poem here.

001;

"I still think that human beings, even our beautiful and wretched souls, are just biology, are just a series of chemical and physical reactions that one day stop, and so do we, and that is that. But I’m looking forward to this blank peace, this oblivion, this nothing, this not being me anymore. Or at least, this is what I tell myself. I tell myself I really want to die, and it never occurs to me until the last possible moment that what I really want is to be saved."
— Elizabeth Wurtzel