I'm glad I'm so believable.

x: How long do you think you will live for?

z: Until 3001

x: You don't think you will ever try to kill yourself again,

Right?

z: Maybe.

x: What do you mean by maybe?

z: Never can tell the future.

x: Right now, do you think you're on the side of maybe not, or maybe yea?

z: I don't want to kill myself right now.

x: You would tell me if you wanted to though, right?

z: I would.

x: That makes me feel better. You know I would tell you, right? Because I would.

z: I do know. Because you have. And I'm sorry when I haven't been there for you. I really am.

x: It's not like I'm going to shoot myself when I'm done this conversation.

z: Good.

x: I'm glad I'm so believable.

(I should probably make this private soon for good because it's getting too angsty to share and I pump out prose and rants like I think it means something. Enjoy it while you can, assuming you can find value in any of it)