I often spend my days sitting alone on the porch step, smoking endless menthol cigarettes, drinking coffee that’s long since gone cold, and drowning out the world with the sound of The Smiths. I think about death a lot, too. Some days I put on a cardigan and tie my boots up and head towards the train station, just to figure out the logistics, just to see how it would feel.
“We really are so very worried about you”
Tomorrow they’re sending me to the hospital.