Suicide (French Literature)

by Édouard Levé

Since you seldom spoke, you were rarely wrong. You seldom spoke because you seldom went out. If you did go out, you listened and watched. Now, since you no longer speak, you will always be right.

You were glad to be born on the twenty-fifth of December: “All the people celebrating don’t realize that it’s my party too. Being forgotten spares me the trouble of having to shine.”

You used to believe that with age you would become less unhappy, because you then would have reasons to be sad. When you were still young, your suffering was inconsolable because you believed it to be unfounded.