No one suspects the butterfly

This is probably the saddest (as in unhappy, not pathetic) thing I have ever written. I hope that some day someone reads this and decides that it’s worth waking up tomorrow.

paycheques and songs about suicide

The cheque is in the mail. I'm writing them with my mouth, you're going to cash them and I'm going to laugh when the bounce. Everything is wonderful now. I'm dead and you're dying. Everything is funny. Sorry if I laugh when you're down, but I don't smile at other things any more. I only eat fruit. You know where you're going; I've been there before. I told you about it, but you probably tuned me out. You work for your paycheque, but you don't need to do anything. When you're paid by the hour, you only need to be there. The activity keeps you from the insanity. The insanity protects you from the world, absolutely. It's your own circle, as vicious as you want it to be. It is a different circle. It is not a perfect circle. This circle ends. You've seen the end coming from the moment you started moving away from the beginning. Somewhere along the way, you break your bones, and someone breaks your heart. You remember the old rhymes, right? All your answers were given to you when you were in the crib and bleeding on the playground. Sticks and stones my break my bones, but your words will never hurt me. This is a lie, and yet it is the truth we know. We know that words tear deeper than any knife. Sticks and stones my break my bones, but your words may kill me. I will not die by their force, but by their guidance. That is the ultimate swan song. The end is the swan song. The swan song is, at its core, a song about suicide. If you write a swan song, you know your going to die, and you're letting it happen. Resignation is suicide. You've got all those songs in your head: all the songs about suicide. You'll be sorry when I'm gone. The darker side of the biggest ride you've ever been on. Another six months I'll be unknown. Who ever thought she'd miss the ins and outs of oxygen. Music, you'll definitely miss music. They found her in her room. I laughed the loudest, who'd have known. It's always the happy child. That's one of those unspoken rules. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. When you're not squeaking, you don't get the grease. No one can see the pain beneath the facade if you don't take off the mask. That's why we disappear, and no one sees it coming. No one suspects the butterfly.