Godspeed and good will, mi mejor amiga.
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"There is something of a religious crisis inherent in death- when you die by the hands of others, and you have suffered at your own, you ascend to God. But when you suffer by others, and die by your own hands, then you are damned as a coward to spend eternity in eternal suffering. But if so, I ask you- is not suicide an extension of religious masochism?" -Alexander Velay
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He sat in the darkness, the mists playing off his paled skin. The pastiness refused to ebb despite his frantic running, stumbling over shrubs and loose grass, scraping his knees to the bone on the rough grass as he ran farther, farther away…
He collapsed to his knees, panting heavily in the cold evening mists. Sweat mingled with the tears pouring down his cheeks, creating a salty mess which stung his eyes and the open cuts on his hands which they dropped onto. His shoulders heaved with sobs and panting, barely leaving him room to breathe between the pained, incoherent wails.
He knelt with his elbows locked out, his bloodied hands on the ground near his knees. His clothes were torn from the thorns of the bushes around him, and several thorns lay embedded in his side, bleeding freely. He lay there sobbing for a moment before he finally collapsed to the ground.
Through early morning fog I see
Visions of the things to be
The pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see
That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please
Heero frowned and pulled his curtain aside, looking out over the estate property. His hands trembled slightly as he let them fall from the window, staring continuously straight ahead, his mind on other things. His shirt hung loosely about his shoulders in a familiar sort of way, numbing his skin to the touch.
Through the hanging curtains he could see only a sliver of glass- from the small space, his reflection stared back at him coldly, daring him to flinch. His hands, though nearly crippled from strain, gently reached up to touch the Prussian blue eyes which gazed back at him without feeling from their glass prison. He pressed his palm against the reflection's face, as it continued to mock him with scorn and coldness. He lifted his other hand to cover the eyes- but instead blinked for an instant.
When his eyes opened again he saw glass all over the floor by his feet. His hand hung, bleeding, out the shattered window in a clenched fist drawing more blood from itself than from the window. The cold wind blew in, and he pulled the curtains closed before turning off the lights and laying silently, coldly, into bed.
I try to find a way to make
all our little joys relate
without that ever-present hate
but now I know that it's too late, and
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please
Another clump of blonde hair lay on the bottom of the shower. The small boy frowned and picked it up, examining it briefly before throwing it in the garbage. Patches of thinness could now be spotted amongst the once-lush blondeness, and the blue eyes that accompanied it had become somewhat clouded. He noticed as he wrapped a towel around himself that he could now wrap it three times fully around his small chest- nearly double the amount of times from a year ago.
He glanced lengthwise into the full-length mirror next to him. His face had grown sallow, the high cheekbones become ever prominent and his lips thinning daily. The irregular spots of thinning blonde gave his profile an incredible demeanor of age, while his small shoulders and extremely slight frame impressed little but a short-lived youth.
He sighed audibly and wiped the steam off of the mirror, wrapping the towel around himself an extra time for measure.
The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
So this is all I have to say
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please
Wufei arranged the small dragon talisman over his bed, pointing the head due north. The bloodstained teeth of the pewter statue were still glimmering with the same crimson that flowed slowly from the boy's sculpted arms. He touched the wounds gently, careful not to irritate their tenderness highly enough to encourage clotting. He ran his hands through the blood which poured down his arm, staining his tanned skin. He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving red streaks as a testament to their presence. His hands found their way to his mouth, where he paused momentarily before running his tongue over the bloodstained fingers.
He laid on his bed for a time, alternately examining the gravy of his wounds and ingesting it. After a while he folded one hand behind his head as the blood found its way to the white linen, rapidly tainting it as he watched calmly. As he smeared the crimson along his arm, he could faintly make out the slashes through the blood. With the taste of blood still in his mouth, he offered a prayer gesture to the dragon idol before pulling the blood-ruined sheets about him to sleep.
The only way to win is cheat
And lay it down before I'm beat
and to another give my seat
for that's the only painless feat
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please
A mess of brown, spiked hair stared calmly at the clown mask which resided in his trunk. The white joy grinned maliciously back at him as he set it down on the ground next to him amongst the dew. The lake spread before him, its waters rippling coldly with the evening breeze, almost invitingly to the boy who knew not how to swim.
He continued to mechanically empty his trunk until he reached the bottom. The glint of steel played along his eyes, reflecting the pale moonlight which formed patterns along the dew-chilled grass. He noticed as he looked up that no stars were out that night, not a single glitter gracing the sky save that of the yellowed moon.
He lifted the curved knifes to the light, watching their unrelenting glints dance along his faded shirt and stained jeans. He clutched the perfectly-carved oak handle to his chest and stood, his steps taking him to the lake's edge. He had no time to react before he put the knife to his side and plunged headfirst into the below-freezing water, the pain rushing over his body and into his lungs. The sensation was almost of burning all over- he opened his eyes under the water as the coldness rushed into them, stinging him as with a thousand flames before his head surfaced. His sobs echoed in the empty night, his face a mingling of tears and numbing lake-water.
He brought the knife to his forehead and frantically began hacking away at his hair in the middle of the lake, barely afloat in the 30-degree water.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger watch it grin
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please
Somewhere on the estate, a scream pierced the hollow night. Duo collapsed to the ground in pain, his sobbing slowly ebbing away as the vines slowly tangled about him. Heero looked up from his bloody hand, tears pouring down his face before he closed them peacefully. Quatre stopped, the towel dropping from about his small frame as he stumbled weakly down the hallway, finally collapsing on the lush red carpeting as he was startled, weakly landing on his hands and knees and watching the world around him vanish into the darkness. Wufei opened his eyes only momentarily, looking at the bloodstained sheets crumpled tightly about his body before curling into the fetal position and sobbing gently. Trowa dropped the knife from his hand as he tilted his head back to look at the starless sky before he slowly slipped under the water.
And as the wind blew through the icy night, not a soul stirred.
A brave man once requested me
To answer questions that are key
"Is it to be or not to be?"
And I replied, "Oh why ask me?"
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please
And you can do the same thing if you please
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Fin
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