I was kind of surprised there was a gun in my hand….
It’s black and heavy.
It FELT like a gun you know, kinda cold and vibrating….
You know what I mean?
You can feel it too, can’t you?
Maybe that’s just me.
My gun will wield instant death with a ¼ oz trigger pull.
My gun is a dark travel agent with 6 one way tickets….
My ticket is first class express…
No unexpected stops.
My destination is unknown except for a long layover in purgatory, a spirit prison or nirvana…
I’m at the end of my rope; not the one with 13 knots, although I considered that route also.
I considered a neck tie around the ceiling fan, but I wasn’t doing this for shock value.
I wasn’t angry at anyone, only the guy in the shop window, or the one staring back at me from the bathroom mirror.
I didn’t relish the fact that a child might find me whirling around beneath the fan as if though I were sitting on the edge of an evil merry-go-round….
My eyes wide, my arms outstretched, my legs swinging, a silent scream from my blue lips and swollen tongue.
I don’t want to make nightmares, just quit living in this one.
I’m angry enough at myself to kill me, I guess.
There are pills on the small table beside me, and a bottle of vodka.
They’re pills for what ails me.
To make me feel better.
No pain….at least that’s what I heard.
I had almost decided to take the whole bottle to make SURE I was healed….and feel nothing.
I wonder if shooting myself in the mouth will hurt….
I don’t want to be found after 3 days, bloated and not looking quite myself.
I don’t want to puke all over myself trying to fight the body that was trying to save my life against my will.
I thought about a nice hot bath too, with a razor or a hair-dryer.
But, I didn’t want to start a fire or mess up my their tub.
So, I decided to quit being considerate since that flies in the face of conventional thinking around suicide victims, so I’m in a nice quiet hotel now.
I only paid for one night.
“No luggage” the clerk had asked.
“Only a gun, pills and a note” I thought.
“No…” I said. “I won’t be here long”
“Check out time is at 11 am” the clerk continued.
At least until he hears the gunshot, more like an hour from now.
“Thanks” I said.
You should be thankful they say, in all things.
Thanks for nothing…..
So, here am I, sitting on the edge of a strange bed.
I don’t feel thanks….I don’t feel hope…I don’t feel anything, really.
Although, I can feel the gun in my hand….the barrel in my mouth.
The hardness of the barrel clicks against my teeth.
My tongue drew back from the bore as if though it were hot.
It was cold, so very…very cold.
It kinda shimmers looking down my nose at the gun, both my thumbs over the hammer…..
I taste the oil on the gun.
I tasted the old cordite.
I kinda stuck my tongue in the barrel, wondering again, if it would hurt…
Ha! If it would hurt…!
I thought you didn’t care anymore you stupid ass!
I thought you just wanted out!
I could feel the gun trembling from excitement.
No…it’s just my hand shaking
The gun was all business.
It knew its job….
I could see the hungry brass eyes of the hollow points staring at me.
“Let’s get on with this” they said to me.
Just pull the trigger already.
I laid the gun down on the table, knocking over the pills.
The taste of the gun oil had made my lips dry and now I was putting chap stick on them….
Life is weird.
See how short my attention span is?
I went to the window.
I knew one thing; I couldn’t blow my brains out with people right outside my room.
The gunshot would scare them.
Maybe give them nightmares….especially the kid.
I know what you’re thinking but, I am very considerate of other peoples feelings, well….at least people I’m not related to or the ones that ignore me.
I couldn’t do that to strangers.
I looked out the window and saw a man removing luggage from a car.
A woman had a child in her arms, swinging her around like a little top.
They were laughing; it kinda hurt my ears.
They were breathless and shrieking…..in a good way.
They were so alive and standing less than 10’ from a man that lived only long enough to die.
They began to do the dumbest, goofiest little dance just outside my window, singing badly “Going to Disney World!”
The man picked up the future Mousketeer and threw her high in the air.
She squealed as she disappeared into the sun.
The mother jumping with fear and delight that her baby could fly so high!
I had to laugh at them, almost.
They were so silly….
I laughed some more….the gun now, down by my leg.
Good thing the gun oil was’nt on my lips no more.
There was only the taste of salty tears, and wonder.
Don’t know why I thought of that quote…..
I flushed the pills.
I thought about hiding the gun in a trash bag like it’s a dirty book.
I opened the door and watched the shiny, new people dance in the sun.
They didn’t notice me, their happiness bounced around them, like shadows in sunlight.
I danced with them in my broken heart.
I too, would try to fly once more, I hoped.
Even if it be on tattered wings.
That’s when I decided to shoot them instead.
I hate happy people, with a passion.