A small library full of people, dusty books. Dusty memories. Me and you, watching all those souls reading stories about people that don't even exist, about things that never happened. There's no more coffee left, you keep smoking your pain away, and I get to sit and wonder when all this will be ended. There's a gun in my desk. It has two bullets in it. Who's gonna die first? That old man reading? That pretty lady sitting next to the window wondering if her husband will be there as usual? We know nothing. Maybe those two bullets will perfectly fit in our brains. Maybe they won't. If we're gonna shoot ourselves we'll never know. Then people will start questioning what happened to us, when it all started, and i don't want people to care about two young fools committing suicide. I don't care about people, i don't want people to care about me. I just want an ending. But I dunno how to do it. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of failing to die.
Death smells like leaves in autumn, right after the rain, when everybody steps on them, like there's nothing under their feet. We're all living in our shadows. Nobody cares if we live or die. It's all about the smell of death that everybody is afraid of. People think that if they worship their lives they'll experience an easy death. We all die the same. The pain burns us inside, our breath stops, our eyes close, we die, we go to hell, we burn in the eternal flames and nothing happens after. It's what everybody goes through. You can't change the course of life. But you can change your death. Sooner or later it comes.
But now it's about you and me. Why are we trying to die? Is it something that made us feel like we're important enough not to care about what we're leaving behind? Sure. There's nothing remaining after our death. No life, no story, not even a small drop of love. Just a river of tears is left behind, just a dusty memory of a bunch of feelings that never got anywhere.
Why is everything so complicated? Why are we doing this? Why are even together in the same room? Why am I dreaming this instead of my Prince Charming saving me from death? Why must it all end right now? We do we have to die... today? Why don't you miss me? Why am I here, and not somewhere else?
'cause he's holding me in his arms, and I'm crying... but I'm already dead inside.

Autumn is dead.