How I Die

I want to die in a painless way. But it also has to be beautiful. I could stab a knife through my neck, my chest, or I could just cut my wrists. I can feel that blood leave my body. The sting will only last for a second as the numb slowly takes over. If it’s a good knife, then it shouldn’t hurt. Too much at least. I can stab the knife slowly through my chest feeling the sharp pain burn through me as the fear clouds my mind as the knife sinks closer to my heart. My breathing will hitch, my eyes will water, my hands will shake. And as my body is overcome with fear, with the desire to live. To pull the knife out. I will plunge it in deeper. Straight into my beating heart. Pain will run through my body as my vision turns white. My body will fight for control. To pull the knife out or to leave it in. My fear and panic will win, and I pull the knife out. The sound of cold metal leaving my warm body will echo inside my head. I try my best to stop my blood from leaving the wound, but nothing helps. I can feel the warm liquid flow between my fingers. The knife falls to the ground with a clatter. Alerting my siblings in the living room. My baby brother who’s only three years old will walk into the kitchen. He sees me weakly sit on the floor. He’ll call my name. I smile at him as I weakly pull the knife behind me. Even if I want to die, I don’t want anything to happen to him. My blood soaks my shirt creating a puddle on the ground. My breathing becomes labored as the strength leaves my body. My baby brother will walk up to me trying to help me up. I weakly smile at him. He starts to cry. Alerting the rest of my family members. I fall to the side as they start to panic. I can hardly hear anything now. I can’t feel anything either. I just lay there. I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. I just want to close my eyes and sleep. I’m sorry.

Since I have my own car. I would drive to someplace people will know but it will still be far. I would bring with me a sharp razor, knife, or box cutter. I would bring a comfy blanket and pillow. And an umbrella. A big one. Just in case its sunny or rainy. I would drive all the way to that spot, make sure no one is around. Set up my little area and settle down. I will grab my phone and dial 911. They would answer. I tell them, “I plan on killing myself. You might not believe me but it’s the truth. I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. I’m going to cut my wrists now. If you can save me then I’ll live. But if not then I’m destined to die. Please save me.” I put my phone on the side. I grab the blade, but I hesitate. I’m scared. I don’t want to die. But I also don’t want to live. I take a deep breath and cut my wrists. It’s not deep. Only a shallow wound. I think about all of the negative stuff in my life. I’m such a failure. I’m useless. I cut deeper. The blade stings. I start to cry because it hurts. I switch hands and cut deep into my other wrist. The operator is trying to talk to me. I cry and tell them the blade hurts. Blood is falling fast. Staining my clothes. Dripping onto my blanket. I lay down. I talk with the operator. But they keep telling me how to stop the bleeding. I ask the operator to tell my mom that I’m sorry. I’m a terrible (_______). I tell the operator goodbye and hang up. It’s a slow painful process. I feel woozy as I lay there. I think a quick nap will work. I have a feeling that I won’t die from this. It was a dumb idea anyway. Oh well. I’ll just go to sleep. Good night.