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"I thought it sounded poetic to die on the day of your birth. It's like a full circle, closing to finish the drawing of my existence. I'm thinking today sounded even perfect. Born on a Monday, died on a Monday. If I knew the exact hour and minute of that unfateful day, I might take that into consideration as well. I'm obsessed with patterns like that. I fixate on their probable meanings or assign one so that it sounds more special. I'm chucking over this interest in dying on my birthday as the same thing." "I'm merely obsessed with patterns. Nothing more and nothing less." "It's not because of depression, for I believe I don't have one. There was no doctor to tell me otherwise. I never went, but that's beside the point. I don't think having this thought every year on the same significant day should be a sign that I have it eith...