OH I AM A SHELL, A SHELL OF MY SELF, ON THE BEACH I LAY SUSPENDED IN MY OWN SHALLOW GRIEF. I AM A SHELL A SHELL OF MY PRIVATE SELF, OF MY FORMER SELF, MAYBE (I pray) OF MY FUTURE.

I SAY I WANT TO BE UNDERSTOOD,
YET I DON’T ACT AS THOUGH I UNDERSTAND.

I consider suicide each time I suffer and each time very seriously. I feel this is ridiculous and so I never tell anyone.