there are many, many ways i could have committed suicide yesterday. oh, i was so very close. there was a myriad of pills around the house that my parents had failed to sweep up. there was broken glass. there were razor blades and knives aplenty. i wondered about cyanide capsules and various poisons. the truth is, i took 14 or so aspirin, but as i was so sick with self-pity, i ended up puking them up. the sick, sad question is, why can't i do it? i am so miserable... i am friendless, i am school-less, i am motivationless. i am already dead. i have no hope, no future. the only truly unique things i have are the voices. they echo and roar through my head, reminding me, reminding me that i am just a mildly pyschotic, severely depressed nobody who has nothing.
