Post-it Notes.

Black as night and cold as daylight after an acid trip. This is what it felt like walking down the street after a hard night drinking. I was thinking about my cubicle, post-it-notes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my broken stapler – when it hit me. A car, not a life changing epiphany or sudden moment of lucid awareness that my life meant nothing. No, the opportunity to kill myself once I realized that, was suddenly taken from me when a car hit me in the dead of night. Now I can’t even lift a knife to slit my throat.