sometimes i think of ending it.
i think of the bathroom floor, swift motions against my wrist until im bleeding out. An empty pill bottle that used to rattle and shake.
i think of the woods, cold and dark. crunching of leaves and i walk towards one of the large oak trees. the rope in my hands as i sit on the wet muddy ground, tying it into an intricate, well known knot.
and i'll climb.
i will tie it, and fall.
i will think of my brother, my mother, and my friends. i will remember their voices, their laughs, their smiles.
i will smile as the rope burns my throat, and i gasp for air, choking out for breath.
i will hug myself, until i go limp.
