Here i stand, at the edge of a precipice, readying myself to jump. But only uncertainty lies below, as above, and the fear is overwhelming.
My name evades you, evaporating from your memory and your mind, and my face fragments in your brain when you even deign to think on me. I may as well be dead, rotting below the ground, or a million particles of carbon, scattered amongst the star-reflecting waters of the South Pacific.
I think some would mourn, with the fierce intensity of adolescent emotion, but i think the pain would pass. It is only arrogance on my part to assume there would be pain. Probably everyone would just end up less inconvenienced, less worried. One less body cramming the tram, one less waste of oxygen, one less hideous sight.
Pull the trigger, say a prayer. Of triggers, why does your image, the thought of your lips on hers, hurt so much if I'm over you? I want to desire sensibly, with logic and rational thought. I want to want someone who wants me back. I want to feel beautiful in someone's eyes, and I want to hold and be held. The world doesn't, however, work the way i want. It doesn't deliver to the hopes and prayers of a lonely, flawed atheist, and it doesn't hear hear her screams, echoing silently in her mind.