I love my life...but you know what? I never forget that we all leave it some time. After a long hospital stay...on a hotel room floor of a sudden heart attack...hit by a falling bookshelf when the next big quake hits. Doesn't matter. It's gonna happen. I may decide to make the moment of my passing more meaningful, an act of love and of passion, rather than letting time, illness or accident steal that moment from me. And the best thing about a place like this...if you think that anyone I could find to kill me would be some evil, vicious sadist, some predator, and that it couldn't be an act of love, look around. Maybe even...look inside? There are those of us out there whose partners satisfy our desires for pain, for humiliation, for control. They love us, they do this often because they love us, sometimes doing things to us that they would not choose left to themselves. It may not be a love you recognize, but I've seen its face and it is love. The thought of someone who loved me being willing to give me up to make my ultimate desire a reality brings tears to my eyes. It is that person that must deal with the horror that follows. The person who dies has it easy, in this respect.