I hate blood. I've always hated it, since I was a kid. Even a minor scrape was enough to make me queasy. I get disgusted at a lot of things, like broken bones and vomit and stuff. I think that's why I've been putting this day off for so long. I always get scared at the thought of dying, it makes my heart race and I feel afraid of what's gonna happen after the fact. Will I go to hell, heaven? Will there be nothingness? I always ponder, unable to decide which would scare me more.
None of those things matter anymore. The thought first appeared in my mind a couple of years ago, when I was going through a swing of depression. Nothings really changed. Everyday is the same, there's no excitement or hope anymore that it'll get better. I've just been tired, and tired's all I'll ever be. I'm broke, in no position to stop living paycheck to paycheck. I have no emotional attachment my mom, she became nobody to me a long time ago. I have no close friends, only acquaintances. I have no reason for living, that's why I've been preparing to leave it all behind. Maybe it's just the alcohol, but I feel at peace with the thought now. At least I'll die in the way I want, instead of starving and homeless. That's the road I was headed to anyways.
I heard that opioid overdoses are quiet, not violent and shaking like from the other drugs. Most people just stop breathing. No blood, or vomit, or broken bones.
"Just a sleep that you don't wake up from. I hope it's peaceful. In any case, what's done is done. No going back. I'll be dead before I could even get back to the city anyways."
I don't want to leave a mess for anyone, and hopefully at most I'll just end up a missing persons report. If anyone even notices, that is. I don't have anyone close enough to me to go looking. Maybe my mom will try, even just for her reputation, but she'll give up as soon as she can. She's never really given that much of a damn about me. Maybe someone will find my body one day, if it hasn't already been eaten up by the wildlife out here. I hope nobody will find it in such a state though, i get queasy just thinking about it. It's better than being in a pool of blood or dangling from a tree, I guess.
I continued to walk drunkenly forward, all of my deep thoughts being crushed together and losing their meaning by the minute. With each breath, the fear continued to seep out of my body and fade into the chilly air. I could feel my consciousness getting duller, my brain becoming more and more numb.
My steps became slower and slower, as well with my breath. Sometimes I would gasp after forgetting to breathe for a while, but I paid it no mind. I put my index and my pointer finger next to my throat. I could feel my pulse dulling. I kept walking.
My head started spinning, way more than any dizziness that alcohol could have caused.
The extent of my intoxication finally caught up to me. I tripped over a limb and crashed forward. For a moment I gained a conscious thought, the adrenaline giving my foggy brain some clarity.
"Why did I do this? I should've just told Simeon, right then and there and saved myself! I should've just lived on with my shitty life! I should've-"
I put out my arms in front of me to brace for the ground.
My limbs were extremely numb, all I felt was an indescribable prickling sensation running through them as they hit the dirt. I lied there for a moment, then used every ounce of strength I could—which was laughable—to turn over on my back. The momentary lapse of awareness was now gone.
I could barely piece together a thought. I couldn't hear anything. My eyelids held the weight of the sky, dropping more and more so I could close my eyes. I looked up at the pale blue sky covered by the canopy of trees covering me. Unable to think, I simply let go control of my body and let my eyelids sink down. I could feel my breath getting slower and slower, but I wasn't conscious enough to stop it. My heart should have been racing, causing me to breathe quicker. But that didn't happen. I started to feel any remnants of consciousness slip away. I couldn't feel my heartbeat anymore, or anything at all. All that was happening was my breath getting slower….and slower….and slower…
Until I let out a breath that I couldn't get back.