The narrative

I feel a melody carry me through the good memories, each one staring back at me as I face the final moment.

Part of me goes fighting, grabbing anything worth holding onto. But a tear falls down my cheek and it all wastes away. Part of me is terrified of what comes next, if there is anything at all. I say goodbye in my heart— I can't move my hands. Another tear falls.

I don't want to do this. I don't, but I do. I have to. There's no other way.

I want to go out strong— willingly. I want it to be the one thing that I can control. At the very least, let me control this. I don't want to. I have to, I say again and again.

It hurts my throat— every scream held back, every tear I choose not to cry.

It all comes rushing back.

Every moment I chose not to— the times I was glad I didn't do it, and every time I regretted not having the strength to. That voice was louder tonight than it had been for years. I kept fighting it for years, I told myself I was doing well.

I can't tell you the moment I decided to give up fighting. I can't tell you when the strength suddenly ran out. My will was thinning faster than I could handle.

I mourn the moments I won't live to experience,

every person left unloved,

every blessing,

every curse,

all that once awaited me.

You don't turn back when you're this far gone. You accept what lies ahead, as uncertain as it is. You hope it goes down fast and easy and painless. You don't hope to open your eyes again—

the world fades to grey

My body turns against me, slowly and painfully. I feel sick..

When did they disappear, every person I knew still loved me. How could it disappear in just a moment and one mistake? Oh god, how could I do this?

But it's too late, far too late.

I made sure I was alone here, for at least a few days. A cry for help this far into it won't save me now.

I feel a melody carry me through the good memories, each one staring back at me as I face the final moment. Part of me goes fighting, grabbing anything worth holding onto. But a tear falls down my cheek and it all wastes away. Part of me is terrified of what comes next, if there is anything at all. I say goodbye in my heart— I can't move my hands. Another tear falls. I don't want to do this. I don't, but I do. I have to. There's no other way.