impure_tale (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
impure_tale) wrote2009-10-17 11:19 pm
impure_tale) wrote2009-10-17 11:19 pm
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(ooc: As established in this thread, the Marquis met the Abbe again Friday afternoon, and then promptly had a heart attack. The thread is not yet concluded but will be in the next day, but the end result will be that he doesn't survive. So this entry is being written from the infirmary, tonight, while he's getting over the death toll.)
One year. Five months. Four days.
That is how long it has been since my death in Charenton Asylum, since I robbed myself of a few final moments of breath and existence. It is not something I have ever expressed to anyone, but I committed suicide before I came here, and I have never regretted it. Ask yourself, dear reader, what level of desperation, of squalor, that a man must reach, to believe that the only comfort they will ever have will come through what choices they can make themselves, what control they are capable of assuming over their existence -- even if achieving it means bringing an end to one's own life.
Was I afraid? Not really. I am not proud of that. There is no pride in the level of suffering a person must endure to welcome an end, even an uncertain one.
Yesterday, I was afraid.
...Mademoiselle Shego, I'm afraid I shall not be able to attend your lesson tomorrow morning. You have my deepest apologies.
Members of the Theatre Troupe should be aware that rehearsals will have to be delayed for the time being.
[Private to Captain Kirk]
May I speak with you?
[Private to Dr Horrible]
Thank you for finding help for me.
One year. Five months. Four days.
That is how long it has been since my death in Charenton Asylum, since I robbed myself of a few final moments of breath and existence. It is not something I have ever expressed to anyone, but I committed suicide before I came here, and I have never regretted it. Ask yourself, dear reader, what level of desperation, of squalor, that a man must reach, to believe that the only comfort they will ever have will come through what choices they can make themselves, what control they are capable of assuming over their existence -- even if achieving it means bringing an end to one's own life.
Was I afraid? Not really. I am not proud of that. There is no pride in the level of suffering a person must endure to welcome an end, even an uncertain one.
Yesterday, I was afraid.
...Mademoiselle Shego, I'm afraid I shall not be able to attend your lesson tomorrow morning. You have my deepest apologies.
Members of the Theatre Troupe should be aware that rehearsals will have to be delayed for the time being.
[Private to Captain Kirk]
May I speak with you?
[Private to Dr Horrible]
Thank you for finding help for me.
Private