Suicide

The bitter taste of powder pills, trazodone, going down with diet Pepsi. Mouth full of them, almost too many. Swallowing them down with difficulty, I take another mouthful. There, that’s seventy-four. Some Advil, at least a dozen. I pinch my nose, a full bottle of Nyquil downed in seconds. The taste of black licorice is too strong on my tongue, I spit into the sink, trying to rid myself of it. A bottle of Delsym cough syrup, also downed. I take a few sips of the Cola Syrup in my hand to fight the nausea building. Quick, a couple dozen flouxetine. There. Death should come for me in an hour, tops.

Taking another swig of Cola Syrup, I face my laptop, webcam reeling.

“Alright… umm… I just took a bunch of medicine, and I hope to be shuffled off soon. I hope to die. I can’t explain why. I can’t explain… my reasons. But-.” I flinch. “My stomach just hurt a little… I’m going to start walking now, and I’m going to die, somewhere between here and Tayme’s. At least that’s what I hope. There’s a voice recorder, a tape recorder, in a box in my room. It’s got some things I’d like said on it some things I’d like done. I’m going to go now, before the trazodone kicks in… It’s not your fault. Mom, it’s not your fault. Mike, it’s not your fault. Lexi, it’s not your fault. Sam, it is not your fault. You saved me once before, Sam, butI wont be making the same mistake twice. Good night, and sweet darkness.”

With that, I stride out into the night.

I wake the next morning in my bed, with little memory of the night before, and none of how I got home. Obviously, someone up there likes me. Be it some sort of god, fate, whatever, someone or something must have a plan for me. There must be a reason I am here. So I will learn all I can, go to college, and find out why I am still here.