I can tell the cafe down the road is already open for business, and I’m suddenly craving pancakes to go with.
Downstairs, dad has the Beatles’ ‘Here Comes the Sun’ playing out loud,
And mom’s laughter has that beautiful ring to it,
As they try to waltz in time to the song around the kitchen.
Realizing I can tell what they’re doing even from my room brings a fleeting sense of comfort.
There’s so much to say to them,
but soon they’ll know.
It’s a good day to die.
~Page 17, Diary of a suicidal girl