1. don’t fuck up anyone’s commute.
2. don’t leave a disgusting mess for the EMTs.
3. don’t fuck up any of sabrina’s shit.

there used to only be two rules of suicide, the former two, which came into being several years ago after i was riding metra on the way to work and someone jumped in front of our train. but then this year i moved into this apartment building and discovered, right before i moved in, that rooftop access had been cut off because like two people had jumped off the building. apparently one of them landed right behind gourmand’s open back door at opening time, and traumatized a bunch of art students. i want my rooftop access, dammit.

(personally, i don’t get that. this building is only 12 stories. that isn’t nearly enough of a sure thing, i don’t think. i mean, if it were me, and i was going to jump off something, i’d find something more than 150′ tall or whatever. there’re lots of tall buildings around here, and i’m certain that not all of them are well-enough guarded. although, i suppose in the suicides’ defense, jumping onto federal st. at least fucks traffic up very little, relative to jumping onto wacker or whatever.)

there’s just really no excuse for violating rules 1 or 2. especially since there are nice, neat ways to check out. you don’t have to fuck with thousands of commuters to make your point, and neither do you have to mean hours and hours of cleanup involving harsh chemicals before people can walk past that square footage without saying “ew.” i mean, that’s just insensitive.