a poetic place to die. this exactly that. the place where i spent my first 12 years alive before dying. a place with so many memories, mostly bad, but i was alive or whoever that person was was alive. a place i last time was at for a funeral, minutes by walk away where it will end. a place with stories not just my own. a place where many have done the same as i will be. i’ve researched what prevention measures are in place there, and it’s easy to bypass. i just need to be quick enough before police arive, because of the security cameras. just got to hope i don’t survive, which is unlikely. it will likely be a painful way to go, but i don’t care. it’s all i really deserve. i’ve spent hours trying to find any hope, researching people in similar situations as me and all it’s done has confirmed everything i thought. there’s nothing left for me. i’ll be correcting what was done to me 13 years ago, although this time physically. in the same place i spent my first 12 years. my only 12 alive. the thing that shouldn’t be will return to were it began.