I remember a day dreaming in 8th grade. My first suicide plan, in fact. The vision was gruesome.
I remember thinking of all of the different ways I'd smuggle in a weapon. The weapon would change too. From a gun, to scissors, and to a knife.
The setting never changed, though. It was always in the gym in front of my whole school. The weapon wouldn't be used on anyone but myself. I couldn't bare to think of hurting someone, even if they wronged me. I was angry at them all. I hated them because I hated myself. I wanted them to witness my death, so they could blame themselves, but I would never hurt them.
I came to a solid conclusion on how I would preform the task at hand. It would be at a talent show. I would bring in a knife taped on the inside if my red guitar. My performance would consist of reenacting my suicide note, blaming those who hurt me.
I would walk up to the middle of the gym and stand on the podium. I would yell and scream and take the knife from the guitar and slit my wrists. Right there for them to see my last few minutes.
Of course, I would ponder how long it would take for the ambulance to come, or if I would survive at all.
I knew I had the potential. I slit my wrists as a normal activity, anyways.
