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homme_revolte13 августа 2025 г.Читать далееYour taste for literature did not come from your father, who read little, but from your mother, who taught it. You wondered how, being so different, they could have formed a union; but you noted that in you there was a mixture of the violence of the one and the gentleness of the other. Your father exerted his violence on others. Your mother was sympathetic to the suffering of others. One day you directed the violence you had inherited toward yourself. You dished it out like your father and you took it like your mother.
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Emily_Brown9 июля 2019 г.Did you know why you wanted to die? If you did, why not write it down? Out of fatigue from living and disdain for leaving traces that would survive you? Or because the reasons that were pushing you to disappear seemed empty? Maybe you wanted to preserve the mystery of your death, thinking that nothing should be explained. Are there good reasons for committing suicide? Those who survived you asked themselves these questions; they will not find answers.
082- Emily_Brown9 июля 2019 г.
You monopolize my memories of sad rock music. When I hear certain songs, they are tainted with your nebulous presence. You didn’t use to read poetry, but you would sometimes recite it: the lyrics, without music, of the songs you liked. Rock was your poetry.
036 - homme_revolte16 октября 2016 г.
Your suicide was the most important thing you ever said, but you’ll never be able to enjoy the fruits of this labor.
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