I owe you so much-- I owe you my life. I would have killed myself five different times, had it not been for the thought of your intense secret pleasure while you wept at my grave. I would go hiddenly, write in rage: when she smiles she looks just like a knife blade-- know what I mean. In my mind, I was already dead; now I am alive again and it is you who're deceased, despite appearances and I like this so much better. To tell you the truth.
		Excerpted from The Beforelife by Franz Wright. Copyright © 2000 by Franz Wright. Excerpted by permission of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.