"All books are either dreams or swords." |
There was a sale a few days ago at the grocery on pineapple 2-for-1. Ones in the fridge while I let the other one sit out to ripen. Tonight, feeling the bite of the sweet tooth, I sliced open the pineapple and ate it. It was glorious - juicy, yellow chucks that are heaven to eat. I now have blisters on my lips. There's a point to this besides the pineapple, promise. Truth be told the death of K has had more repercussions than I imagined there would be. Since the news of her passing I've been have vivid nightmares of death and pain. The apartment is in shambles, and my classwork is stacking up. Any motivation to write dies within seconds. And I didn't get out of pajamas today. On a relative scale, minus the nightmares, that's not much too bad. Its just...I can't shake what happened. Its like the freakin' pineapple (hang with me, there's a correlation, I swear.). I didn't see the blisters popping up on my lips coming when I ate the fruit. I didn't see K killing herself, neither did her closest family. Somewhere, along the line, I think someone should have senses something. That doesn't make any sense, but I haven't been making much these past few days. One of the weirdest things is, I find I keep mentioning it to people. Not her suicide, but her death in a general sense. I'm looking for some answers in my randomly asking people. There is a reason WHY she did what she did. In the back of my mind I keep wondering if I just keeping asking, maybe someone will give me an answer finally. I hate to think of her, or anyone, in that much internal, emotional pain. In all my Psych classes, suicide comes up a lot. Suicidal Lethality. The fact that asking someone if they're going to commit suicide it one of the truest ways to help them overcome their faulty thinking. In the end, did anyone think to ask her intentions? Did she think she was all alone in the world? That no one would miss her if she was gone? K seems to be always present in the back of my mind with the question - why? And God knows, that question will never truly be answered. Blistered. |