Martha is lying on the floor

Martha is lying on the floor. She’s been run over by a car. I’m sitting next to her, head in my hands, crying. It seems all obvious now, here, that one day, it would all end up like this. I did not know consciously, but something inside was me was aware. All that debauchery, nights after nights, weeks after weeks, months after months. Always in need of the next high, higher than the previous one. The trips. The alcohol. The drugs. The new experiences, crazy and crazier. I couldn’t be so blind. I knew it’d end like this. Burning the rope of life faster than what decency would allow. Living life. But so quick...