It was a spring day, the sort that gives people hope:
all soft winds and delicate smells of warm earth.
Suicide weather.
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Crazy isn’t being broken or swallowing a dark secret.
It’s you or me amplified.
If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it.
If you ever wished you could be a child forever.
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I think many people kill themselves simply to stop the debate about whether they will or they won't.
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