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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?"


"Yessir!"


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--

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