he walked through the doors of his small home. as soon as he walked through he walked straight to the cabnit. his eyes skimmed every bottle. they stopped at ibuprofen. he grabbed the bottle and looked at himself in the mirror. all he saw was a useless beimg who always see,s to fuck everything up. the feeling in his chest, oh how longs its been since hes felt that. he figured he needs to stop wasting time and just swallow the fuckign bottle. but he was stupid and took the bottle to his room. he quickly went into his room and grabbed a small box of his personal belongings. he grabbed the thick stack of envelops, one for each of his attempts. it was truley pathetic how hard he tried to kill himself but was never successful. he wrote the date they were wrote on the front snd layed them out on his desk in order from oldest to most recent. what was im those notes explained all the pain hes ever felt and all the times it became too much. a sicknimg smile spread across his face and he began to laugh as he found joy in the fact he would never have to go through that again. he wont ever have to write a note like that again. soon some sense kicked imto him as he thought "what if the pills dont work" so he grabbed a razor. he sat down on his bed amd stared at the pills in one hand and the pills in the other. which first. razor. he quickly pressed the blade down his wrist, making sure to hit the special places in his arm. as he saw the blood pouring he was satisfyed. he grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and gulped the whole thing back. tears of joy filled his eyes and he began to laugh again.
"im-im free" he croaked quietly. and soon enough he felt himself drifting off. not an ounce of regret was in his now soulless body.
once music was the thing that saved him. now it was the thing at killed him.
