You Aren't Enough

Chapter 3

I guess I've decidied living is too much. Tonight's the night I'll finally do it. The goal today is to tell as many people as possible before it happens.
Or the opposite. I don't know which would be better: telling everyone of my plans or leaving my immediate death as a surprise for anyone lucky enough to learn of it.
I've never felt lower than I do today. You know how some people say "Today's gonna be the best day ever" to start out every day? I feel like I'm going the opposite way. I scraped a pencil the entire way down my arm, leaving a bleeding cut from the metal spike meant to hold the graphite in place. My veins bulge out in their blue on my wrists, trying their hardest to pump blood to an open wound. The blood is zoot, dark and rich. Like wild berries. I pull down my hoodie sleeve, letting the blood seep into every fiber of the wool. It hurts. My arm numbs before tensing. I'm not enough. I'm not enough. I've made my choice. Its happening.

I storm into my empty house, throwing my keys against the wall and leaving them pierced in the wood. I pull a piece of paper out with a pencil. I write on it simply "Forget me." Going against any stereotypical suicide awareness ploy. I wrote with a calm hand, making sure to have legible handwriting and make it seem as if I was positive about this. Couragess about leaving what I have, it isn't much, but I have some things at least.
I open my skin with a needle, extracting the smallest amount of blood, filling the syringe up to 1cc. I empty the blood onto a forensics plastic file dated 7/7/17. The plastic enters a metal compartment in the corner.
I grasp a large kitchen knife and press it firmly against my neck. No therapist to save me now. No one who cares. No one who wants me alive. I press harder. I jam the knife into my neck as hard as possible I feel my crimson blood stain my hands. It drips down my skin into my pores. This is it. No Goodbye. I remember the quote of "dont go gentle into that goodnight" as my vision blurs into the florescent white of the ceiling. I fall and hit the floor. Sweet dreams, me.