The Maxx

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"It makes me sick, even if it does sorta make an exciting climax to the story. And then, when he died, he didn't even look human at all. Nothing makes sense. And if it does make sense, then it's all gotta stop. There's nobody in charge. Adults run everything and nothing works. I have no control, and I'm sick of running from myself."

(Okay, here's the point in the story where I throw the gun away, and I have this cathartic revelation that suicide's wrong, that life's worth living and everything's okay. You know, all that crap.)

(And that's why this story doesn't work - because I just don't buy it.)

"Nobody buys it. That's not why you should go on."

"Why then?"

"Because things'll change. You'll change."

"But what about right now?"

"Right now, you wait."

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(That's my story. I still go down to the underpass some times. I thought once I decided not to kill myself, things would be better, but I feel just as empty as ever.)

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Pain lasts. It's how you know you're alive. Some people run from theirs, mine follows me through nightmares, and you're wading through yours.