Anyway...my desire to die at the hands of a lover has not gone away, not changed, not grown less intense as I've grown older, more successful. It doesn't increase when I'm unhappy, it doesn't grow quiet when I'm ecstatic. It is always there, always a part of me. I think of it every day and I have for twenty-five years.

You know what? We all have our fantasies. Some of us have the luxury of being able to act them out and live through it. Some of us have fantasies that can't be lived out at all, at any cost. And then there's me.

If I choose to, I can live mine out. If I can find a willing partner. If I'm willing to give up my happy life. If I'm willing to hurt those I love and those who love me by leaving them early and in a violent way. If I'm willing to risk damage to my lover by letting him bear the aftermath, the loss of me and the possibility of arrest. If.