“You’re important to me. I think if there’s anything that will last forever, it’s that. Whether we separate, stay in touch or rarely speak again, you will always be that little someone I really do care for, that I would sacrifice everything for to protect and keep safe.”

“not a bad day.”

“Neither of us ever had to question anything. We both knew what we meant to each other.”

“Fuck funerals. I don’t want one. The world hasn’t lost anything, so why pay to dispose of something that’s already biodegradable? There’s nothing I’ll leave behind, and the mere thought of saddling another with any kind of financial burden post mortem pains me. Another burden. Even in death. You’d think I’ve encumbered enough. So don’t do it. Leave morticians out of the equation. Let them practice their gazes filled with overcompensated compassion on another occasion. It’s a noble calling, I’m sure. But I never liked their anointed smiles, picture perfect suits, and flawlessly pedicured fingernails. They remind me of the dead placed in chilled coffins; bodies arranged in whatever way’s deemed to be the most aesthetical. Besides, they always smell suspiciously like lavender. If you ever wondered why I hate that smell, now you know. When I am gone, let there be coffin nor large steel doored cremating oven, my cleithrophobic ass can’t handle either. A forest bonfire would be a nice way to go. Ashes blowing in the wind; bits of me, finally finding freedom. It’s all rather poetical. However, I don’t want this to be in any way memorable. Let it be just another day; dispose of me in the least spectacular way. And do me a favor: forget about me as soon as possible. I long to be eradicated from existence in such a way that not even the slightest shard of memory can have me recreated. I long to be forgotten. Utterly forgotten. I find that thought comforting. So let there be grave nor gravestone, no, not even a location where I was last known to be tangible. The dead belong to the past and the past is better left alone. Move on. Let go. That’s what I’ve always been told. Focus on the things that are actually significant. Sing, dance, kiss and hug; make love or simply fuck. Crack some jokes and laugh. Laugh! Let all those days that are just like any other day be equally magical. Live in the now and make it sensational. Don’t put my name on the calendar. I’d hate to be part of some annual mourning ritual. Just forget about me. I am not a missing piece. I never fitted in the first place.”

“The beauty you see in me is a reflection of you.”