I have some experience with suicide.

It's pretty common Scrawl knowledge that I cleaned a really yucky one. Shotgun in Mouth. That only really made me think of less messy ways to accomplish the task. Let me tell you that pills make you shit your insides out, and it is not a normal kind of shit. No matter what you're feeling about the world, you do not deserve to take that shit. No space you fill with the glop and sludge that comes out of a person after death is easy to clean. No loved one, no hotel maid, no contracted glorified janitor, no experience junkie writer is really up to the task of tidying up after death. I'm chill with it, but I dream about it. I breathed him in, his cells in the air of the room, the oxygen in my body.

It's a party foul at an already broken party.



Katie Moore