I felt this exhilarating rush of anxiety and despair, even existential dread

I was lying with my back to the wall, pistol against the temple of my head, firmly pressed

What comes next?

I pulled the trigger, and I yelled for an ambulance I was told, as I bled

I took a nap for about 6 days though, I wasn’t really dead

The bad things they did to me in the hospital, you wouldn’t believe if you were to know, that’s the way the world goes unfortunately

I poured out brownish red on my bed, I saw pictures of my room after and it wasn’t pretty.

I just wanted a change of pace, but now I’m stuck, a little out of luck, spending my days from where I tried to escape, in the same city

I failed to get rid of me

Do I have regret? Do I reminisce about it and fret? No and yes, I wouldn’t go back, I wouldn’t reset

The Day I Killed Myself was a necessary step to live my life to the fullest

I hope good things come next