Watching someone engulfed in flames and the consequent screams is painfully surreal. The monks in Tienanmen Square are much less egotistical about it. Knowing that kid actually existed leaves a taste of reality in my mouth I can’t quite wash away. Probably need some hard liquor. I didn’t start my day thinking about Memphis but it’s hard not to at this point. My walk home last night was littered with mantras about my worthlessness and the desire to stop taking up space. Yet, I’m not dedicated enough to die for it. I view my suicide as that eventual thing I’ll do if I’m desperate enough. Like agreeing to marry someone if you’re both single at forty.

When I met my first husband it was easy to identify him. No one else has ever been that interested in what I have to say. His joy is captivating and I knew immediately that I wouldn’t find anyone more interesting in all of the mid-South. All of his friends went west after college so I vaguely assumed he would be open to the same sojourn. The morass of Memphis is stronger than I thought. Perhaps if I’d had as good an income I’d be content there as well. As things stand now, I hate tourists. Feeling native to Seattle is my greatest accomplishment in 2017. That said, I’m a Memphian forever.

I hardly knew the kid. He worked at Ronin for a split second while I was getting my right shoulder tattoo. Not a terrible person in the flesh, I hear he did some fairly unforgivable things to other humans. Nothing anyone has done in their life warrants that level of self punishment. Nothing his partner did warrants that level of selfishness either. I know what wanting to die feels like. I abandoned the idea of using suicide as a punishment to others in my teens. It’s not a very efficient form of revenge. If anything, self-immolation goes against the best advice ever – revenge is a dish best served cold.

Proving people wrong involves surviving pain. I am not motivated by much desire to prove people wrong. Except my parents, of course. I don’t want the people who once knew me to think about my death. The only benefit of having someone fade out of your life is not processing the loss. Most of the people I value are leading normal lives with the absence of my involvement. I try like hell to afford them that grace because it’s not a secret that I want to die. Getting to know me is accepting my relationship with entropy.