Me and the Moon

Written on the night of the previously written post:

Emily,

My being is dead. My physical existence in this world is no longer relevant or necessary. I have no one. I am as alone as the solitary silver moon whose brilliance is lost among the abyss of darkness that surrounds it. All I feel is the definite emptiness within myself and my physical being. This emotional pain that I have been feeling has evolved into a physical pain as well. I do not know how long I will be able to go on like this. It must end. I must end. The only hope I have is in liebestod...

"O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God, God,
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!"
- Hamlet, Act I.2 L.129-134

- Anna