All my characters try to kill themselves.

Imbued. Imbued.
Meaning to permeate with ideas, emotions, et cetera.
What a strange choice of word for Brenda to use.

I was out for sixteen hours again. It was every bit as terrifying as the last time. The nap grew and grew and got out of control, and got away from me. This is twice now that this has happened. It had never happened before, and now it’s happened to me twice.
Who is the next one to go down?
Who is the next one that fails as a human? As a decent human?
I’m getting to the point where I’m looking at degrees of bad behavior and wondering, “Aren’t there degrees of this? Can’t I look the other way on some of these while violently opposing the others?” I guess not. I guess it’s all the same.

It’s only getting worse for me.
I can end this.
I can uphold writing tradition.
This too, won’t pass.
I can end this.
I will end this.

Pain Center: the Novel is a good book I wrote and you can buy it. http://davecookson.tripod.com/PainCen...