A blade.
It would seem to be the ideal choice for me.
I like blades.
I like silver.
I like blood…
But that’s the problem.
There’d be too much blood.
And pain.
I don’t like pain.
All I know is pain.
I don’t need more pain.
The moment that blade shreds my skin and veins, the pain would be too much.
I don’t wanna go out like that.

A gun.
No, never.
I hate guns.
I’ve never even touched a real gun.
Guns scare me.
And they’re messy.
Not so much the blood, but the possible gray matter.
Or maybe teeth and tongue bits, depending on the positioning.
No, definitely not.

No, no way.
My hatred of drugs surpasses even the hatred of my existence.
No drugs.

Jump off a building?
Yeah right…with my fear of heights?
Fuck that.
And the long fall down…oh God that must be terrifying.
I can’t imagine what that would be like.
Hell no.

Hell, I panic if my heads under the shower too long.
What someone must feel as they can no longer breath and their lungs slowly fill with water.
That’s horrifying.
Oh God no. No way.

I guess I’m stuck with the ugliest option of all.
Keep on living.

Some decisions are harder than others…