To become a ghost,

your death has to be a surprise.

(Boo.)

People who thought it'd be easier

to be a ghost

than to be alive

found that out the hard way.

"How old was he?" Mickey asks Krista.

"Eighteen.

Like you."

Another bite,

another struggle

against the blowing hair.

"You're thinking of doing it, aren't you?"

If I had breath,

I would hold it now,

waiting for Mickey's answer.

"I don't think of dying," he says,

"so much as I think of not living."

It starts to rain,

suddenly,

strenuously,

as if heaven itself

is bawling,

spitting,

pissing

on my brother

and his death wish.

You go, God.

If he doesn't want his life,

can I have it?

I'd be a miserable,

pretentious

son of a bitch