Death.

Dying, everything is.

Muted noises, the sound of horns, a sudden wind. People talk. On and on and on. Smile, click click brb. Someone called me Mary Poppins once. I can't believe someone called me Mary Poppins once. It's dying. And for some of it... I think its for the best. Atleast its not a slow fade away. A sharp chop; thats all I always ever needed. Maybe the time is right. And even if it isn't, what of it.

***

And Jimmy said, "They all want to escape from the pain of being alive. And most of all, from love."