Below is an archive. The person who wrote it is dead now. You are not obligated to read it.

today. i get to watch the stars.
they hold beauty i cant really understand. but they're special because they burn eternal.
today, i die and my body will be found. i dont want a funeral. i dont want to be cremated. i want to be set off into the far, far ocean, where my corpse would feed the fish and the world. where my bones would too be taken away by the sea and her boons.
where i could drown for ten thousand years more. or maybe itd just be better to burn me. but don't keep me anywhere in a can. or in a vase with my name. or in a plastic tub where you can remember me. don't do that. do not do that.
today, truthfully, i don't know how im going to die. i don't even know what's true about my death anymore. ive already seen the view from halfway down. by the time you read here, or by the time you are told of here, im already at the bottom. i don't really get to ask how i am kept after my death.
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tomorrow. i believe you'll find out. i guess that's today for you. that's a terrible thought, isn't it? finding out. it's news. something that happens and you're out of control of it.
a tragedy strikes and no matter how quickly you run or make calls or sob, nothing about your actions will change the past. i often believe this fruitless labor of grief is, well, fruitless. it's a useless activity. of a facade of care. where would you run?
who would you call?
why would you cry for a tragedy that's already passed?
how could you grieve, if the action never happened in front of you?
how could something affect your life if the act was so far from you?
how could you believe you would change the past?
none of these things would change the outcome.
that's what it's like to live in my body.
agony befalling agony.
an endless spiral, down down down you drift,
the bottom? of course, of course
you've been looking at it the entire time, watching it creep closer and closer. your arms won't stop it. your legs will still snap. your neck, fingers, toes, spine, all twisted and wrong.
but when will the bottom come? you ask.
when will it be over?
when do i get to go home?