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  • R.T.

I Killed Myself

My apartment building was in the glow. There are pine trees out front so some shade blocks the window-glares. And the shade is nice; it's not that gloomy shade you'd find in some Gothic or in some Grimm fairy tale. I really do love life, it's so pretty.

I was tracing my arm; the veins or whatever--I didn't really care what, I was just tracing. My neighbor saw me--"Finally! Been a while!"--and I nodded and waved. My finger was still on my arm, though.

"Such a nice day!" he said. Are you sad, Pluto? Pluto should be happy; I'm happy.

"Oh my God! It's gorgeous! What? 72 outside? Only a slight breeze?"


I found a dot--the dot--on my arm. It was hard to find. I couldn't see it (I'm not dumb). It was like a mosquito bite, except I bled a drop; mosquitos are clean, not me though.

I went up the stairs. I liked my apartment, on the top level, but I did have to be quiet going up.

I went to the kitchen. What was I thinking again? I was seeing words; I heard colors. Was it it? I was happy. I was Bottom, chased by Robin, but I was Septimus, too. Where is Pluto? Did NASA revoke it? Poor Pluto. Neptune's waves are stronger.

I sharpened the knife. Apollo hit it. 'Tis a sign! 'Tis a sign!

My bed was warm.

A worker outside said something about "return air" about "grills."

Zeus? Jove or Jesus? No one? Me?

I made my bed real nice while laying on top of the sheets. Snow white would be proud. Where's my apple?

Could I have my own Heracles? Is Euripides watching?

I put the knife tip down on my arm. I put it by a vein. I pushed in. The window was open, unfortunately. I promised I wouldn't writhe, though, so I screamed. I shouted. My brain wanted out. Screaming was an escape.

Ultimate masochism? Am I okay? Wait! Pluto comes!

I dug the knife in and dragged it against my blueish veins and the thin skin like sweet-butter on a hot pan.

My arm fell down, exposed to the sun.

Vision is fading. Pluto?

So warm.

Pluto? Poe?

My bed sheets were white.

All I see are some shadows from pine trees. I really love my apartment: nice Shadows.

What did Septimus say? Something about nature?

And then--