Bathroom Floor

You never know where your life may lead you. You could hope. You could try to stay on the safe path, the right path. You could have the proper discussions, and say the right things. Do the right things. You could smile. You could be optimistic. 

Everyone has a chance, to get it right. They think what they're doing is what will work for them. They may get into a good university, get the perfect job, and get married. They say it's up to you. Your decisions, your choices. You never correctly question that until you're on the bathroom floor.

The lights are glaringly harsh.

Did you ever think they'd be the last thing you'd see before you died?

The truth is, you never know where life might lead you until the ending is the best solution. You've learned to stop crying and to stop questioning. Stop fighting.

Stop fighting. After all, you're fighting with fate itself.

You run your hands over the rim of the medicine bottle. Your hands do not shake.

As you unscrew the cap of the medicine bottle, memories flood back to you. You remember the first time you tried to do this, the first time you attempted to end it all. You remember the fear that you felt, the fear that you would fail, the fear that you would be found before it was too late.

But this time is different. You're not afraid anymore. You know that this is the right decision for you, that this is the only way to end the pain that you've been feeling for so long. You're tired of pretending that everything is okay, tired of putting on a brave face for the world to see.

As you raise the bottle to your lips, you can feel the coolness of the glass against your skin. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to savor this moment, this last moment of your life. And as you tilt the bottle back, you can feel the pills sliding down your throat, one by one.

The bathroom floor is the only apparent destination.

-BLANK-