Whatever doesn’t kill me only serves to gradually injure me, whether physically or emotionally, sapping me of the will to live, so that even if I remain alive I’m essentially a walking corpse, until I decide I would have been better off had I been killed—I’m sorry, but you know how everything else pales when you get a really nasty paper cut.
McSWEENEY'S INTERNET TENDENCY'S PATREON
Help support our writers and keep our site ad-free. Become a McSweeney’s Internet Tendency patron today.
January 3, 2011
As little as $1 a month ($12 a year!) goes a long way towards supporting our editorial staff and contributors while keeping us ad-free. Become a McSweeney’s Internet Tendency patron today.