Well now, those who really want to die – go and do it right away. Don't think that we said it because we don't care – we care for you, but what could we do? If you are ready to die, then do it without hesitations and regrets. I am, unfortunately, haven't managed such an act, because I'm just very curious of what one may meet on their way. Kind of an elusive answer, I know, just like Dumbledore's socks or whatever, but it is still true in some way, because Dobby the Elf was actually the honorable receiver of all kinds of socks, not Dumbledore the Epitome of Eccentricity.

When we got all those poor souls out of here, all we have now is those who actually want to live, just don't know how to start. All these thoughts (about killing yourself) come from boredom. Well in my case, most of the time. There is pain, of course, and I wouldn't even pretend I understood it, because one can't just compare sorrows so carelessly. But you see, you can't concentrate on doing anything remotely beneficial to anyone whilst in pain. So, like in the case of boredom you desperately want it to stop and for something different (pleasant) to happen to you. You know, you can still kill yourself, because if you just haven't got anything to hold on to, you will leave nothing, right? But if you have problems, like your blood is too thick (my initial concern), you are afraid of pain, you are stressing about what will happen if you are not successful in your attempt – don't think too much about life threatening objects, you wouldn't need them like many years from right now.

That was the first stage – understanding that you are bound to this planet, or, in the future it may be even the whole world! I mean like a living creature, not some wordless rock that doesn't even know he is a part of the bigger rock which goes round the even bigger mass of gases and so on and so forth. My concern is that your are doing the depression thing all wrong. What is in this thing about making someone happy and making them watch movies with happy endings? This person would be jealous as hell! And overeating? Not only you like yourself less because of the growing thighs and more likely to kill yourself, but you also waste your time, when you could kill yourself or just done something useful, like writing a will or something (well, that thing is rather important, won't you agree?). I was, like, amusing myself with the stories where you just inevitably have to pity one of the main characters to show yourself (this I understood just about now) that someone had it worse around. And this alone probably saved my life, because my manner of doing things is rather persistent, so nothing to do – no reason to live, obviously. But the downside of doing this, however helpful it might be, was that it is as good a drug as procrastination. Actually, I believe they serve the same purposes. And if you need to live, you need to do something, rather than imagining doing it or doing completely different thing altogether. I was fighting with myself, because I had those thoughts that working on something was pointless, but the one thing I had understood – the whole point is in being busy, not in doing something really, whole deal, beneficial.

I love changes (now, anyway). But the biggest mistake you could do is to commit something which would remove your ability to change. It is not necessarily death (we are not sure what it is, well, I am at least, don't enlighten me, I am this kind of curious who wants to see, to hear, to touch, to smell and to taste it for themselves). A wish alone is sufficient enough to stop all the changes in your life.