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flirting with death has become a favourite pastime of mine. l'appel du vide. it beckons me to take a step closer to that ledge i stand on. because no matter how high the cliff is i can't help but look down. i'm not in love with death, just the idea of him. because when he and i are together and his wine soaked lips are near my throat i forget about everything else. i forget about how my mother fell too deeply in love with him and how all of my friends are dating him too and how I can't leave the house without hearing his name. i know he's supposed to be an ugly thing but all i can think about when i look at him is that he's such a beautiful prospect, a gift, even. after all, would it really be so bad to feel nothing?
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