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, I get queasy just thinking about it. Though, 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 having little effect on me. 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. 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. "Shit, is this really happening?"
My eyes suddenly closed involuntarily, and I could feel my body sway and begin to fall, but I didn't feel any pain from hitting the ground.
"…blacked….out…am…I…dying…?"
I could barely piece together a thought. I couldn't hear anything. My eyelids felt like they were bonded together, unable to open. I could feel my breath getting shorter and shorter,but I felt no panic. 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 I could feel was my breath getting shorter….and shorter….and shorter…
Until I let out a breath that I couldn't get back.