Jeez, how could someone do that? I mean, physically do that? As if you wouldn't have to be a head-case already. He must've been slashing his stomach for years, scar after scar after scar. He could've at least thought of a new place for it. Or maybe he was planning to rip out his guts. I wonder how he found out he could do that anyway, what, he was patting his stomach after a good meal one day and, hey, my hand feels kinda warm here. Oh look! There's my innards. Huh. Scar after scar after scar, he must never have healed up. It's really quite hard to imagine though, being able to poke a hole through your skin. Being able to just plunge your hand inside yourself. Haha, I wonder what he must've said to the girl who found him, I mean, what could you say? What could possibly be a suitable ice-breaker in that kind of situation? "Hi, I'm bob, this is my intestine, and you are?" Still, how could someone physically do that? How could they not pass out from the pain? Never mind the sight of their insides and a pint of blood on their lap? He must've had a strong stomach, oops, haha, pun not intended.

What's the time? Hmm, train will be here any minute. Jeez, i'm nervous, and it's freezing out here, I'm shaking like a leaf. This will be the first time I will've seen my brother in ... what is it now? 2? 2 and a half years? I think so.

I wonder what was up with that extreme self-harming guy anyway? Besides depression, obviously. It's really quite amazing the lengths to which people can go without killing themselves. I'd have never thought you could disembowel yourself and live to tell someone how you don't want to die. He must be really messed up.

I hope I've not missed my train, it's half an hour till the next one on this li.. Ow! Jeez, what the hell's that? Ack, stupid thorns. Should've picked a better spot to wait. Mind you, from here it looks like thorns all round. Tut, the train best not be late, I can't stand much more of this. Talk about discomfort. Ow! Dammit!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, just thinking about how far people can go without dying, there was that one idiot. Now he actually meant to kill himself. But, seriously, how can you put a shotgun to your head, pull the trigger, and survive? Mind you, that's all he's doing. Surviving. Lying in a coma on a bed, spouting a tube from the red gooey mess that was once a face. Stupid really, he must've put the gun to his chin. I mean, why aim at your chin? It's hardly a vital organ, it doesn't pump blood, digest, remove toxins, it just kinda sits there. Being a chin. Like chins do. Honestly, gun in the mouth, 45 degrees up, straight to the centre of the brain. Cerebral cortex. Cerebellum. With a shotgun, what's left of your head will be frisbees for insects.

Euthanasia is the only realistic solution now, the guy wanted to die anyway, he's in a coma, he has sharkbait for a face. He's hardly gonna be able to sustain a normal life. His suicide letter was moving though, I have to say. And he was what, 18? Tragedy. What was it now? I was reading it on the computer an hour ago. Oh yeah, it had a poem.

"We all must die alone
As people, every one of us,
we must bear witness,
to what none but the dying should see,
but I do.
I see it when i close my eyes,
I see it when i dream,
I see it in myself,
This stone cold heart of black,
is dying.
I'm just a ghost,
cold and see-through,
my soul bleeds from me,
And i retreat into my shadows.
Where it's dark,
where it's safe,
Where i must go.
To be alone.
To die."

That's all i can remember, I'm sure bits are wrong, but ah well. I read it so many times, Isuppose I could kinda relate. Lately, when I've woke up and looked in the mirror, I just see emptiness. I'd put it down to tiredness, but I've found I feel like this all the time. Just empty.

Jeez, what is taking this train so long. Car would've been much quicker, if i could've stood it. Thinking about driving just kinda makes me sick after what happened to my brother. He was in an accident a few years ago, driving home early one morning. He'd taken a corner too fast, hit a bus shelter and flipped over before crashing into a building. Spent months in hospital, 2nd degree burns, compound fractures, it was horrible. I couldn't help crying when I saw him like that. To this day, if I'm in a car, I'm in that hospital, looking at what was left of my brother. It makes me sick. Since then I've always used trains, I've got all sorts of passes, so it's not too expensive, and I know all the lines and routes. To be honest, I've found myself going places a lot more, simply because of the inconvenience of non-direct travel. Getting off at stops means exploring and finding new routes to places. I'd say I've become more of an outdoor person all round. I suppose every cloud has it's silver lining of some sort.

What else was on that site? Ack, I read so much of that crap the stories all blur together. A suicide letter from a hanging victim becomes an article on a celebrity depression. I hardly ever read any of the gory stuff happening to girls though, girls tend to slit their wrists and overdose. The one's I know of anyway. Whilst guys go for the more messy stuff, like guns, knives, bridges. Anything quick, angry and messy. Certain deaths. That's why, although more girls attempt suicide, and are sufferers of depressive illnesses, more guys actually do kill themselves. I just thought it was funny, the way machoism and beauty remain stereotypes of guys and girls, respectively, to the bitter end. Guys go aggressively, girls go gracefully.

Where the hell is this goddam train! Oh, it's only been five minutes. It's barely late. I'm just excited. I wonder how he's getting on. My brother, haven't seen him in ages. God, think how different he must look, think how different I must look! I hope he recognises me. It's kind of a surprise visit. Spur of the moment sort of thing, y'know. I just thought today, I've been all over the country on trains, I've visited all sorts of places, but I'd never gone to see him, and there isn't anywhere else I'd like to go.

I probably should've gone a long time ago, but it's been too difficult, and it upsets my mum, she hasn't seen him either. But now, I'm just empty, numb. I don't feel the pain anymore. I mean, it's there, I know it's there because I still can't get in cars, but on a day to day basis, when I'm reminded of him, there's just nothing anymore, no sadness or despair, just, emptiness. I suppose I've been like, emotionally eroded by pain. It's actually worse. I mean, like, for the first year or so, I'd cry everyday, just lie in bed and cry, and the world wasn't there anymore, I was just lost in oblivion. Just, dark and silent, and, well, fulfilling. Complete. I was always miserable, but I could just escape into the misery, into the pain. Just letting it wash over me, until I wasn't me anymore, I wasn't alive, my brother hadn't been in a car accident. The pain cleansed me of reality.

Then slowly, it would become harder to cry, harder to disappear, harder to sleep. Those horrible, mind-altering thoughts became background noise, elevator music. I would need fresh material, I searched for similar tales, first hand accounts of families left behind, pages and pages of some poor soul's tortured mind. I found an abundance on the internet, and feasted. I'd become an addict.

Now i just stare at myself, just stand at the mirror and stare, mentally screaming at myself to cry, but my eyes are dead. I'm soulless. There's no pain, just the tragedy of reality. The misery just hits me now, and all i hear is "he's dead" "he's .." oh wait, here it comes. Gah, stupid thorns. Oops, slippy ... there we go. Jeez, this must look dramatic, stood in the tracks, arms outstretched. God, I feel sorry for the driver, I hope this doesn't leave him traumatised or anything. Like I said, guys go messy.

Haha, blowing the horn, oh yeah, that'll make a difference, right, like I'm gonna think 'oops, he's blowing his horn, I'd best go kill myself somewhere else'.

Oh god, mum, this'll kill her. She thinks I've gone to Danny's. Why did I just walk out? I need to run back and hug her, tell her I love her. I could've written a note or something at least, I should've said goodbye. Both her children dead. She was getting things back together and everything, getting a job again. She'll start back on the bottle now. How can I do this to her? No, there's still time, I can jump away, but those growing dead eyes reflected in the window. Even now, they don't shed a tear. I'm destroying her world, cold hearted bastard. Soulless. Empty. Hi, I'm Bob, this is my dea...