積ん読

“I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.”
― Ezra Pound

“You ought to know, you were my best friend. You were. I know you loved me. I loved you.
No one should have gone through what we went through, but we did. And it kills me to think of it.
But I didn't love you like you loved me. I don't hate you for that. It just makes me sorry, that there isn't someone else who could love you better.
I know when you think about how I went, you'll get it. I was always uneasy about being alive. The idea of being dead makes me feel clear. When I think of it. It makes me think peace, peace, peace. It makes me happy. I am looking forward to it, to the absence of everything. And so I want you to be happy for me, that this is better for me. That I found what I needed. I know you won't be. But it's the last thing I want. You happy.”
― Alexander Chee, Edinburgh

“What did it say about me that all of my favorite novels fell somewhere between a love letter and a suicide note?”
― Sean Norris, Heaven and Hurricanes

“Love, success, and friendship are not always enough to counter the pain and destructiveness of severe mental illness. American artist Ralph Barton tried to explain this in his suicide note:

'Everyone who has known me and who hears of this will have a different hypothesis to offer to explain why I did it. Practically all of these hypotheses will be dramatic—and completely wrong. Any sane doctor knows that the reasons for suicide are invariably psychopathological. Difficulties in life merely precipitate the event—and the true suicide type manufactures his own difficulties.”
― Kay Redfield Jamison