If I can't run, I want to scream. I want to scream, but I can't find my voice, hidden somewhere in the indigo sea that has swamped my brain. Blue. Blue. Deep, dark blue. The blue that fills me with desire, the desire to find a small, sharp blade and watch blood run, red. Wish you could turn off the questions, turn off the voices, turn off all sound. Yearn to close out the ugliness, close out the filthiness, close out all light. Long to cast away yesterday, cast away memory, cast away all jeopardy. Pray you could somehow stop the uncertainty, somehow stop the loathing, somehow stop the pain. Act on your impulse, swallow the bottle, cut a little deeper, put the gun to your chest. -Ellen Hopkins. "Impulse"-
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