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No because sometimes reassurances aren't enough, you know?
Sometimes it isn't enough to remind yourself that you are alive despite whatever atrocities you've ever faced.
Sometimes telling yourself that it'll eventually get better, just isn't enough anymore.
Because sometimes bleeding feels better on the inside and it's a safer bet to drown yourself in the ethanol and pike yourself on a wooden cross in the front yard.
Sometimes trying to think positively is the last line of defense between your breathing lungs and your beatless heart, and it's ok to bite your own arms.
Sometimes it's ok to rip chunks of flesh from your own thighs and wallow in self whatever-your-choice-of-mental-poison-is.
Sometimes dying alone is not a big deal, and then sometimes it's the only activity you could ever possibly do to keep yourself from commiting a psycho-schizophrenic fueled genocide, because one overzealous "preacherman" told you that you are unworthy of rest, that one time.
Because every once in a while you need to hang yourself with a silk rope from an overdramatic oak tree, and that's ok.
Because sometimes dramatics are good for the nervous system.

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