I kill myself. I do this throughout the afternoon. Into the evening. Into the night. Into the early hours of the morning.

I kill myself.

Not deliberately. Not so. It just happens. Just as the rain falls atop my gray, worn hat as I stand, soaked, before Her Chevy Blazer. As Her ignition runs and She sits sobbing, pounding on the steering wheel, telling me how She can't leave because She's too worried about me. Too concerned for my well-being.

Goddamn.

Funny how, minutes before, She pushed past me when I tried to dissuade Her from leaving my room. Tried to convince Her to stay. Tried to make things better.

Oh well, okay.

So after standing there. Glancing up at the sky as it pours down on me. Rains down on me. Pounds me down.

She coaxes me into returning indoors. She persuades me to do so.

But it's all a trap. I realize this far too late. When I'm in my room with my housemates eagerly staring at me for some rationale. For some composition.

But I can't give it to them. I can't give them anything.

So I leave. I venture out into the storm. Into the treachery of the night. I go out. I welcome it.

What awful ideas. What horrid notions. What foolish ideologies.

Let's hope I forget these moments. Let's hope I forget me.

Let us hope.