How the whole wide world was free.

I'm waiting very patiently for this mosquito to land or float by at an opportune time so I can kill him/her. I'm going to smash his/her existence into my black sweatpants. He/she will feel a flash of excruciating pain but be lost in total darkness before he/she can comprehend it. I really hope that's not how I die.

I dreamed of falling from one of the twin towers. I remember watching people throw themselves out into nothing to escape the scorching inferno that had been their office. I heard the roaring sound, felt the rush of wind that stole my breath away, and those few seconds of overwhelming fear followed by a serene peace that I had (somewhat) chosen my death. Better to die flying than by having my flesh contorted by a steel oven.

I hate the feeling of my hair burning. Leg hair, arm hair, head hair, nose hair. I hate how it smells, too.

Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to be a tree, to have beautiful green leaves and spend the day absorbing sunshine with my roots blanketed in rich soil. What would it be like to be cut down, to feel the teeth of a chainsaw turn my insides into sawdust? Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to drive off the road into a pole, off a bridge, or into a steep gully. And what would it feel like to point a gun at someone? Or witness a serious injury take place. Or hit someone with my car or a bat. Or to have wings. Or to be a bird caught and eaten by a cat. Or to be touched by someone who believed my body was beautiful.