Thirty-three — The Suicides, #33


Point, click, rotating arrow. And here we are.

I didn’t even plan it like this.

I turned 33 this week. Pisces. I wanted to write, and formed a website. I chose the darkest of colors to etch out my characters. And here they are, along with you.  I kept trying to come up with a title for another suicide piece, and simply failed.

And here I am, as well.

I looked into the mirror today, and realized that, simply by living out the years as I have—a part of me died. Choices already made are choices as etched in stone as stalagmites and stalactites buried deep within the earth. And there I lie, buried with them—at least, that part of me.

A part of me dies, and another, altogether different, continues to live, with each passing day.

And thus I live.

And as such I slowly die as well.

Inspired by:

(Image:, “Birthday”)

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9 thoughts on “Thirty-three — The Suicides, #33”

  1. “Someone falls to pieces
    Sleeping all alone
    Someone kills the pain
    Spinning in the silence
    To finally drift away
    Someone gets excited
    In a chapel yard
    Catches a bouquet
    Another lays a dozen
    White roses on a grave

    To be yourself is all that you can do”

    (Audioslave lyrics).

  2. curvygurl5 says:

    Why do you title your posts suicide?

    1. They all end in a suicide: although, this one, albeit not as concrete as the others. This one’s more about killing one’s self in an abstract sense.

      When I started writing these pieces, I figured, “What the hell? Why not end every piece that way?” And I’ve just been doing that ever since.

      By the time I’m done, I’ll have a novel-length collection. Possibly more than one. Who knows?

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