The inarguable rules of being do little to staunch my need to exit this body. Though someday the dissenting cells clouding my harmony will dissolve completely, I find no peace. Much to the contrary of cessation, I am desperately seeking vitality. And I am growing tired in my quest to live.
Death, I imagine, could be easy. Dying within the folds of youth is incessantly arduous. Silhouetted by modesty, I curse the unusual dimensions of virginity I possess. I condemn the equally uncommon trials of frivolous promiscuity.