I just slip away and I am gone

I've never got past act number six, though I was quite determined, as much as any person who's lost all will to live. I kept thinking just about one thing: tonight it's gonna end. Everything's gonna be over. I won't have to live that unbearable life of mine. I'm going to change things for myself. I'm gonna do the smartest step there is. I'm going to kill myself.

There's something between me and God. It seems like we're in some kind of competition. Of course he always tops me. He's God, after all. Unstoppable, All-can-do. I'm a mere human, a pathetic life form that for some reason crawls on the earth. And, still, there he goes. I guess he gets some kind of kinky pleasure out of it, or otherwise I'm not able to explain why he makes my life so miserable, and at the moment I want to finish them off, he sends some help. I can't understand the Lord, but then again, can anyone?

Swallowing the first 20 pills is quite hard. Makes me wanna throw up, all this water. It starts to taste like iron. Melted iron it is that I'm drinking. Then I'm starting to get better at this. Now I can swallow 4 at once. Then six. Practice makes perfect!

I decide 66 pills are quite enough for me. Surely my biological system or whatever couldn't handle that amount of chemicals. This time I'm blasted for sure. Doomed. Dead. About fuckin' time.

Soon enough I can only lie helplessly on the sofa, waiting for death to come. I'm sunk deep into some kind of purple haze dream, floating in space, a thick cloud of fog covering me. I throw up a little, and it goes right down the floor. Gotta clean it up. Justine's gonna be so mad at me! I've ruined her precious carpet. Oh my, she's gonna kill me!

I get up a little and head for the kitchen, but fall on the floor, covering my clothes with my own vomit. Oh dear lord. Gotta clean myself up before Justine returns. If she finds me like that she's gonna just leave me… I'd die if she leaves me! I'd just kill myself!

I manage to stand up but my head is somewhere else. I cannot keep my body in a straight line… My head goes to the kitchen, my right leg to my room, my left hand to the bathroom and my nose wants to watch the telly.

I fall down again. My head hits the sofa and I blackout for a few seconds, then open my eyes and stare on the wall. My head drops. Is this the end? It can't be, I'm still dirty...

The doorbell ranged.

"Go away!" I want to say but all I can produce is a tiny chirping. I just lie flat on my stomach, head dropped to the floor, nose crushed on the rug, my whole upper body and face covered with vomit. And I know I must clean myself before it's too late.

"Damon, are you there?"

Fuck. I feel so weak. I can't move a finger anymore.

"Damon, what the fuck is going on? Open the door! What are you doing there?!"

It's too late, whoever you are. I'm dead.

"Damon, I can hear you. Open the fucking door NOW!"

YOU open the fucking door. Can't you see I'm busy dying?

"That's it! I'm coming in!"

The door opened.

I can't even look up to see who is breaking into my house. I feel so dead, yet I'm not. Not yet, that is. I hear the sound of someone approaching. Who is it? I want him to leave. Unless he's a murderer coming to end my misery. Or maybe a nice violent burglar. But he's (Or maybe she? She could have a masculine voice...) not. He knows me. Oh, fuck. I don't want him to save me.

Someone's near me, I can feel it. You know when you're not alone. Ever had that feeling, when you were supposed to be on your own, but still you felt like someone was nearby? Especially when it's a dark night, and there's nothing coming from outside except from some creepy noises… And I was afraid. Oh, God, how stupid can one get? I was going to die and yet I was afraid.

This is taking a few paragraphs, but it was only a matter of seconds. I was in this ultra-clear mood. All of my senses functioned like I never though they could. I could hear a fly buzzing in the room. I could smell the light perfume the burglar was wearing… I guess it meant I was really going to die.

The burglar draws near. He kneels besides me.

"What the fuck…"

I pass out.

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