I used to think that maybe if I stayed still enough that I would maybe just stop. Like my lungs would forget to breathe and the blood would stop running through my veins and my heart would stay so still that my brain would think I was dead and finally just switch off. I would be so still that even God would think I was dead and he would pick me up and take me to heaven and I would be happy and safe. But then someone I loved told me that liars go to hell, and I realised I would end up there because I lied my way to heaven and I faked it all, so I tried my hardest to never stay too still for too long and the thoughts continued to race through my mind, and my blood kept on running through my veins. But now, I think of dying again and the thought of hell doesn’t seem so bad. I guess what I’m trying to say is maybe anywhere is better than here.