-5.
I can live a lie, or I can live autism.
I do not always have the energy to keep up the lie, every waking moment.
I do not want to live autism.
I do not want to live, I do not have the will to die.
I do not believe I could arrange a suicide so that my kids would not know what I had done.
The only sure death I can think of that the coroner might rule an accident is hemlock, or Destroying Angel (or death's-cap, or a fistful of other poisonous mushrooms). They're kinda hard to find this time of year. I can wait for spring, but they're all painful ugly deaths. And the coroner might not know what I'd done, but I've spent so much time drilling those ID's into my kids' heads that they would NEVER believe I'd made an honest mistake.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"