10 ways to kill yourself.

1.

He woke up and said to himself rather firmly,
"Today, I'm going to kill myself."
Well, it is always good to have a plan for the day, but, you really do need to know more about this particular boy before you get the implication that maybe, just maybe. He's cliché.

Well.

He didn't have a hard life, you know, he didn't have a traumatic childhood.

He didn't spend his time playing in the park, only to kick the ball into the bushes,
chancing upon a dead body.
Never fell into any sort of insanity over his past.

He did not have a broken heart, no, it was quite clearly okay, pumping blood and all. But if you're being metaphorical, well, no, he didn't suffer from any form of unrequited love.
He never really had those feelings about anyone.

And lastly, no, he did not come from a broken family, his mother had a secure job with the government, his father, a manager for some small-but-still-decent construction company.
They did not scold him any more than any other normal parents.

He did not get bad grades.
He was bullied as much as every other teenager was when they were in School.
Maybe he was a wall flower, but well. He was okay. He was always okay.

But today, his goal was to kill himself.


2.

Living is a sexually transmitted disease.
I mean, doesn't sex make you feel alive?
But you cast some poor soul into existence.
It's not like he ever asked to be alive.

Maybe you should have used protection.


3.

Quite frankly, he has limited options.
It's nearly impossible to get a gun anywhere in this stupid country. The easiest way would be to rip one off the holster of a police officer, but that would results in a brutal beat down with batons, an arrest, and if he plays his cards right.
A death sentence.

That would take too long. He wants to die today.

He contemplated tying a noose, but despite having been a boyscout, the nooses he tied never had a smooth, sharp, cutting slide, the kind that would wrap around his throat and actually kill him.

Figures, boyscouts would never actually teach anything practical.


4.

Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other-side.
It's a metaphor for crossing the road
and getting killed in the process.

I suppose Mr. Chicken should have looked both ways.


5.

He had this dream the night before, he doesn't really know if there is any relevance to his choice that morning, but it was about a

A midnight landscape of vast fields of grass and silver trees that were short enough that he could reach the tallest branches if he stood on tip-toes, but had stars cradled at the tip of their crowns.

The sky turned rose-tinted, a kinda-dawn-maybe-it's-dusk kinda sky.

He questions if death is pretty. Not quiet, he thinks in hindsight, maybe pretty isn't a good word to describe death, and it's much more logical to say it's something no one should talk about.

Confound logic.
Send clarity into a smoke-ridden Hell.
A sharp mind is to be stabbed with a knife-

Wait, a knife.


6.


Man
Cliff
Sea

Cliff
Man
Sea

Cliff
Sea
Man


7.

The knife was a failure. It wasn't sharp enough to be plunged into his flesh.
And he admits he's a bit weak.

Okay it wasn't the knife, it was him.

Not that he didn't want to die, he sincerely did. It was just kinda hard to stab himself, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't force it into his skin. maybe it wasn't pointy enough.

He contemplated drowning himself soon after, stabbing yourself means that there would be blood everywhere, a gaping wound in your gut.

Drowning, that's dramatic, gorgeous even, cloth floating like spider silk in the breeze.
Yes, you see, drowning is an elegant art. Every part of it needs to be a calculated show of how you were when you died. What made you want to kill yourself?

If love, let red silk flow from somewhere near your heart, tucked into your chest pocket.

If sadness, cock your wrist, and place it on a perfectly smooth brow, be sad, but be pretty.

If pain, well, an iron ball and a deep lake.


8.

Baby
It's down the street
Not across the road.


9.

No, he didn't drown, it always takes him just until the final bit of life to come crawling back, full force.

He wished he would have just stopped breathing. But no, he had to keep himself alive, that awful reflex that if he didn't get that breath, he'd digest himself from the inside out, but not from his stomach, from his lungs.

As if every blood cell in his body was revolting, on strike for oxygen.
He's tempted to drain his blood out, but well, yeah, the knife didn't work, why would anything else sharp work.
He thinks to himself, maybe dying never was an option.


10.

He never told anyone this but, well, he had this last plan, it was ingenius, in his words, and mine.
He was going to quite simply, jump.

Yes, that is his plan, in words of a wise and pretty man.
"You'd die before the impact."

And maybe he's right, and maybe he's wrong, but either way, you'd be dead, you see.

And I admit, this is actually quite plausible. When he was young, he used to take swimming lessons.
And once, absentmindedly walked off the diving board.
All that went through his mind was 'where did the floor go?'
Splash!

He is kinda half-hearted in his attempt though, and- "where did the floor go?"
is followed by a
Crunch!

and a snap.