Dear Kurt,

Some times my vanity astounds me. Today is not a good one. I feel as though the end is near, and even someone with my strength and endurance cannot take the long, dark road of nothingness, aloneness. Anymore.

As I speak, with tears gracing my cheeks... I consider the mascara that circles the blue iris, the puffiness of the skin.

And I wonder why tears aren't more graceful for the vain... I have been analyzing suicide more lately than I ever have before. And my heart is empty. My soul... Bled dry.

I don't know if I belong here... Tell me I belong here...

JS