A wide yellow street lamp above me flickered out as I walked down Bramble Boulevard. I ambled down the damp street with no particular purpose in my stride. It was drizzling and the night held the thick chill of autumn. It was the kind of chill that wrapped itself around me and sucked the heat out of my wool jacket. Or, it used to.

As my body had ceased to function in a normal, living way last winter, I no longer produced heat. My skin was always the temperature of the air surrounding me. This became quite convenient when I realized I could wear long sleeves and pants during the summer without any discomfort. Though, I wouldn’t require such a convenience if I had just died when I meant to.

It was in December. After spending Christmas alone, I sunk even further into my depression. It was the lowest I had ever felt. The anti-depressants didn’t help. I picked up a knife and dragged it down the length of my arms. I watched them soak my khaki trousers and after a while, cease to bleed.

I just didn’t die.