Laying on my dorm room floor,
I wonder who will be first to find my dead body.
I give it two weeks before the proper authorities come check my room. My hall-mates will be complaining about the smell coming from my room, that is traveling out into the hallway making the whole building have a pungent smell mixed with a tinge of sickening sweetness.
They'll open the door to find my naked body, lying there with my arms and legs stretch out. My eyes will be open, staring at the ceiling as if i watched my soul escape my lifeless body. Down my cheek are still dried crusty tears, that fell down after my departure.
I thought about this scene over and over in my head, yet I could not bring myself to end my life. I lay on my bedroom for staring up at that same ceiling wondering if my life has some underlying purpose.
Why does the idea of death seem so relieving?
