• My lungs are burning from the breath that you’re taking from me. Your hands around my throat are suffocating, slowly killing me. You’re killing me with your gaze, with your life prescience. I’m scared, terrified, and yet I’m comforted by your hands. Is that strange? Is it strange that I’m comforted by your bare hands taking my life away? Is it strange that I’m glad you’re the one that kills me? Is it strange that the tears that are spilling from my eyes are not sad tears but happy ones? Is it strange that this is the happiest day of my life? Is it strange that the darkness surrounding me is the most comforting of all? Is it strange?