I was sitting on the front porch drawing in my notebook as cars drove by. The birds sang a melody and a neighbor nearby was running a lawnmower. It was peaceful and for the most part quiet. I take in slow calming breaths of the summer air, relaxing my body gently. A breeze rolls in every once in a while. I roll onto my knees and decide to take a stroll down the block but ignoring my thoughts I go into the house. Setting down my drawing book, I flop down at my desk and open up my laptop. 

I browse through my emails. All are just junk mail anyway but I try to stay on top of it all and not become a disorganized chaos. Nothing caught my eye as I marked as read twenty emails at a time. Slowly growing towards boredom I go onto my texting site and see that there’s a girl that had been texting me. Telling me I am hot and that I should send her nudes. Not on my agenda, so I’m just not going to send her anything. One of my friends sees that I’m online and asks how I am doing.

I respond with an “okay” and hopes she ignores me afterward. I don’t feel like doing anything today in particular. I look down from the screen and see a family photo of my sisters and my mom. They all smile at me through their motionless state. I can’t help but feel so guilty inside. The feeling eats away at me little bits at a time. 

Scooting away from my desk, I allow my chair to roll along the tile flooring. I stretch backward letting out a yawn. Getting up, I take a few feet into the kitchen. Out of instinct I open the refrigerator and notice that there is nothing there that will fill the anger of my stomach. I walk along the kitchen counter and notice a few food spots on the microwave. Promptly I grab a paper towel and dampen it. Wiping the interior of the microwave and the exterior of the door. 

I sigh. Looking through cabinet after cabinet I find pots and pans, dishes, and utensils, but nothing to eat. I’m not leaving the house. Not anymore. I go to the living room and sit on the couch with a notebook and a pen. I turn on the tv for background noises as I write.

“When you get this I probably won’t be there. I’ll be long gone from here. This is something you probably didn’t expect. I know, it was a shock for me too. But it was none of your faults. Please don’t blame yourself. It was only a matter of time before this happened. I just didn’t think now was the time. But it felt right. Now is the time for me. No, there isn’t a thing you couldn't have done to stop me. I know that sounds bad, but I made up my mind. I just can’t deal with this madness. I love you all. I guess this is good-bye. So I’ll just make it plain and short. 

Goodbye family and friends.”

Happy with the results I tear it out of my notebook and gently set it on the kitchen island, laying the pen diagonally next to it so that the tip was on the paper. Pains and wounds that refused to heal inside of me crave at me still. Nerves driving themselves up the walls. It tires me out. I head to my bedroom. The hallway to my bedroom is covered in paintings I have done in the years I picked up painting at an art class somewhere in town.

Emotions run through me like cars on the interstate. My mind like a hamster ball rolling along with them but too slow to keep up with the emotions. The sadder emotions drag me down like weights, allowing me to fall down on my bed. I stare at my ceiling. An encouraging poster looks down at my body telling me that tomorrow is a new day. I roll over on my side, pushing the poster out of my mind.

Gathering my thoughts, controlling my feelings, mustering up courage and strength I get out of bed. I go to my closet, opening the doors up wide. It pulls a string and drops down a short card table with a knife carefully strapped to it. Undoing the strap I pull out the knife gently, taking it into my hands. I can see my reflection on the cleaned silver blade. I run my fingers alongside the blade carefully not to cut myself. I put it back down on the table precisely how I found it and closed my closet. I go into the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I see a sad existing person look back at me in the mirror.

I ignore it, continuing on to the other side of the bathroom. I stop and retrace my tracks. I open the other side of my closet in the bedroom. I walk in. In the middle hung the rope on the ceiling and a chair directly underneath. Along the walls were clothes on hangers. Not thinking of the future to come, I stand on the chair and proceed with wrapping the rope around my neck. I close my eyes and pray to God one last time.

I kick the chair underneath me, and it scoots away from my feet. I start to fall but is cut short. A jerk starts to pull my head away from my body. The rope squeezes like a boa constrictor around my neck. I feel the blood start to pound in my head louder and louder until it all stops. The lights begin to dim. Then it was black.