maybe i’ll catch fire, or get hit by a car, or be the victim of a random act of God. maybe i’ll get sick and waste away real slow, and feel my death before it comes. maybe it’ll be so quick i don’t even have time to grieve myself. maybe i’ll be one of many; a statistic or part of a sad news story. i don’t care, i just need something to kill me. i can’t do it myself.