Hey you wrote:
Hey luv2run, I hope you go fucking kill yourself. But I hope you make a mistake, so that you suffer. Maybe miss an artery but slit a nerve. And as blood slowly pulls out of your body, an animal comes and chews at your flesh. And you feel it all, see it all. Watch the skin pulled, tugged, and finally torn from the bone. And they savor it. For a long time. Until, at last, you feel as though the cool embrace of death will wrap its arms around you but - instead - the animal is shooed away by a good Samaritan. You try to mumble your pathetic cry for merciful release, but he can't understand your garbled speech. You're nursed back to health, but dozens of humiliating skin graft surgeries fail to return you to a form that's even a facade of a human. You become the dark corner of children's nightmares, the whisper on the lips of neighbors who pity this creature you've become. You survive, if that's the word for it, for decades in this form, cared for by people paid to keep up your routine, people who'd rather smother you with a pillow just so you don't offend the social aesthetic anymore. You live, long and arduous and tortuous years, alone and unloved.
Let's keep this debate civil