Sometimes & Suicide Solution

“Sometimes”
The night was dark and cold, and smelled of death. All the same, it was a beautiful night. Sometimes, beauty and death are one in the same.
	“Red. Hey, Red, is this the right place?”
	Red blinked. “Huh?”
	“I said, is this the right place? God, Red, what the hell is wrong with you? I worry about you sometimes, and...Red, are you even listening to me?”
	“Shhhh.” he replied. “Just be quiet. Just look up at the stars, and be quiet. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
	“Red, there aren’t any stars out tonight. It’s dark and cold.”
	Red said nothing, only grinned. Then “I know. Isn’t it beautiful?” She looked at him, and shook her head.
	“You’re so weird, Red. You know that? You’re a big old weirdo.”
	“I know. But that makes you my silly little weirdo, I love you, Marie.” She smiled. What else could she do? After all, she loved him, as well.
	I know that silly. I love you, too.”
	“It smells like death tonight, Marie. Are you afraid?”
	“Are you serious? Of course not. What a stupid question.”
	Red only smiled. It was his smile, that same smile, that Marie had fallen in love with.
	“I love you, Marie. I love you more than anything.”
	“I love you too, Red. But you already knew that.”
	“I know. But I love it when you say it.” His crimson eyes sparkled, contrasting fiercely with the sharp blackness of the night. She smiled again. Those eyes. Those beautiful, intelligent eyes. She loved his eyes. Aside from his smile, his eyes were the most beautiful thing in the world.
	“Red?”
	“Yeah?”
	“Why?”
	“Why what?”
	“Why do you love me?” His smile faded.
	“Don’t ask me that, Marie.”
	“Why not?”
	“Because.”
	“Because...what?”
	“Because, I just do, okay?”
	“Red, nobody just loves somebody. Come on, talk to me. Tell me.” To this, he said nothing. Instead, he puts his hands around her face, and looked into her eyes.
	“Because you’re you.” She said nothing, absolutely nothing at all. She couldn’t. She was lost. Lost in his eyes. Lost in this night. He looked into her eyes, for what seemed like an eternity. But even then, an eternity was not enough.
	“I’m dead, Marie.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her full pink lips meeting his pouty red ones. He kiss her back, and it was beautiful. He broke away, then turned back to her.
	“You make me feel alive, Marie. Hold me. Please, Marie.” They embraced.
	“I love you, Marie,” he whispered.
	I know that, silly. Now do it.”
	“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
	“Yes I do, Red. I do.”
	“No you don’t, Marie. You couldn’t possibly know.”
	“I just know that I want to be with you.”
	“I’m dead, Marie. You’re so beautiful, so alive. You don’t want to be dead like me. I don’t want you to be like me. Get away from me, Marie.”
	“No, Red. I won’t go. I love you. I love you, and you know it.”
	“And I love you, Marie. I always will.”
	“Red, stop crying. Please stop crying.” He buried his face into her shoulder, right near her slight, delicate, alabaster skin.
	“I’m not crying.”
	“Yes you are, Red. Why are you crying?”
	“I’m so hungry, Marie. Please, get away from me. I’m so hungry.” Sobbing, now.
	“I love you, Red.”
	“And I love you, Marie. Please forgive me.”
	It was very late now, almost morning. Red looked at her, at Marie, and kissed her one last time. Her lips were cold and lifeless. “I’m so sorry,” he said. Then he walked away from her forever.
	It was almost 9 o'clock in the morning when they found her. She was still, like a doll. Just like a doll. She was smiling.
Sometimes, beauty and death are one in the same.

“Suicide Solution”
You wake up to the sound of an alarm clock buzzing in your ears. In a state of half consciousness, you turn it off. Groggily, tiredly, you get up, out of bed, and force yourself to eat some cereal. It’s alright. You are terrible exhausted. This is life. Your life.
After consuming your mediocre breakfast, your rinse with some mouthwash, the intense mint flavor causing your eyes to tear.You spit, and your mouth is burning, throbbing. You brush your teeth with some nondescript toothpaste that promises to whiten your teeth, but never does. It doesn’t matter. The toothpaste doesn’t matter, none of it really does. Deep down in the pit of your tired heart, you know this.
	The hot water hits your face, and you are enveloped in a blanket of steam. The water is nice and relaxing, comforting, and you don’t want to get out. Not for work, not for sex, not for anything. You exhausted, and the water only serves to further your exhaustion.  You want to stay in the shower forever, but you can’t. Instead, you shampoo your hair, soap your body, and rinse off. You brief consider jerking off, but you  are far too tired to maintain an erection for any length of time. Besides, you have no time for that right now. You have to go to work.
	You park your crappy car in your shitty little parking spot. You’ve been parking here for years now. You get out of your car, close the door, and lock it. This is your life. This is your routine. You get to your little cubicle, your little cage. You begin working your meaningless little 9 to 5 job. Sometime during your lunch break, your boss begins to yell at you. You pretend to pay attention, keeping steady eye contact,, and nodding every so often. Eventually, your boss leaves, and you are once again free to resume eating your stale, tasteless food. Your lunch break ends, and you go back to work. You work for a while, and then you work some more. After a while, you notice that it’s time to go home. You turn off your computer, and head ot the parking lot.
It takes five minutes to get to the parking lot. Once you get there, you notice that your windshield is covered in bird shit. You consider this fact for a few brief seconds, blink twice, and shrug. Fuck it, who gives a shit? You get in your car, turn the ignition, and floor it. You don’t buckle your seatbelt. You don’t immediately drive home. Instead, you go to the local hardware store. You look around the store for several minutes. You eventually decide to purchase a coil of rope. You pay the person at the register, and go home.
You arrive home. You close the door and lock it. You do not take off your shoes. You go upstairs, and into your bedroom. You place the newly purchased coil of rope on the bed. You turn away briefly, and you look out the window. You pick up up the newly purchased coil of rope. You tie it into a noose. You find a chair, and you stand on it. You throw the other end of the rope around a fan, and you secure it. You kick the chair out from under you. You begin to choke, The rope snaps, and you fall to the ground.
You get up. You open your closet. Inside, there are many other ropes. All of them are broken. You put the new coil of rope in the closet with these. You take off your shoes and socks. Your take off your shirt and pants. You take off your underwear. You are naked. On your naked body, there are marks. Rope marks. You have done this many times before. Each time, the rope breaks just before you die.
You look under your bed. You find a shotgun. You bought this several days ago. It’s loaded. You place the shotgun into your mouth. You squeeze the trigger, blowing your fucking brains out. You die.