I’ve been doing so much better these days, but I still feel like I’m not there. I picture myself tying the rope around the staircase and throwing myself off. I think about how to do it so that my neck breaks before I choke to death. I linger on the image of the strange fruit hanging on Garnett.
I’ve been listening to Hamilton pretty much on repeat and there’s a message in it that no one seems to be able to hear but me. Hamilton was terrified of dying and wrote every minute of everyday to keep running away from death. I feel the same way. My own death seems only a few steps behind me. I just keep running.