Rubah Beternak

Sometimes I feel like… I should have died in that surgery. I should have died, dying, dead, in that surgery. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be breathing at all right now. Wasting good oxygen that could have been breathed by someone better than me. Sometimes I feel like… I should have died. Buried six feet under. Rotting with maggots and worms. I should have died. And at least my corpse would be a good enough fertilizer for the soil in the graveyard. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't even be here. Writing this sentence by sentence. Should have been unable to breathe. Or to have my heart beating in my chest. Shouldn't have— There is broken glass in my room. Right under my bed. What would happen if I put it on my wrist? What would happen if I grazed it on my pulse? What would happen if it bleed and drenched the cloth that I wear? The red would be so… pretty. It would be so pretty you could draw roses out of it. It would be so pretty my grave will have roses growing on it. I...