If I were to commit suicide…
It would take days of planning.
I would have to write out letters to all the important people in my life (which there are only a few, but they’d be long letters, I suppose). I would write the letters in pen and not scribble anything out. Letters to my mother, father, stepdad, and sister, also. Set out my final words to them, and try not to worry about the rebuttal.
I would write a will… Extremely detailed. I don’t want people fighting over my things, or my possessions going to people who would throw them away or lose them in a box somewhere.
I want certain books to go to certain people, I want certain one’s buried with me.
Dylan would have to be given all of his drawings back.
I would have to say who got certain pieces of art in my room.
And then all my knick knacks and whatnots.
I’d also instruct them that my stoner friends must smoke together at my funeral or at the cemetery. Or both, knowing them. To know there is still something to enjoy in those moments.
Instruct that they give Bradley to David. A person deserving of companionship.
There would also be detailed instructions for my funeral.
Tell them what to dress me in. KMK dress, possibly. A corset hugging me tightly, no matter what else I wear. (Good luck to whoever has to deal with that…)
All black.
All my rings on my cold fingers, nails filed evenly and painted in a clear coat so they shine.
My important jewelry put in the coffin with me, only a few pieces given to people.
A list of songs that must be played. A speech for someone to read, written by me. Farewell to the world, eh?
Lie out all my poetry. Then a piece of paper with all my usernames and passwords given. ‘Read it all.’
All the pills, shrooms, and yummies for me, me, me. I think I’d possibly do it in my car… Music loud, my laptop with me so I can look at photos of people.
First I’d smoke the mary jane after a cigarette. Smoke more cigarettes. A pack of L&Ms and Marb reds- cowboy killers. Then take the shrooms — wait 20 minutes. Smoke, smoke, smoke. Snort pills, swallow more.
Smoke.
Smoke.
Sit and listen to the music, smoke more.
Smoke.
Smoke.
Wait.
Swallow.
Snort.
Hopefully,
Gone.
- suicide. suicide plan.
If I were to commit suicide…
It would take days of planning. I would have to write out letters to all the important people in my life (which there are only a few, but they’d be long letters, I suppose). I would write the letters in pen and not scribble anything out. Letters to my mother, father, stepdad, and sister, also.
I would write a will… Very detailed.
I want certain books to go to certain people, I want certain one’s buried with me.
Dylan would have to be given all of his drawings back.
I would have to say who got certain pieces of art in my room.
And then all my knick knacks and whatnots.
I’d also instruct them that my stoner friends must smoke together at my funeral or at the cemetery. Or both, knowing them.
Instruct that they give Bradley to Cowboy.
Tell them what to dress me in. KMK dress, possibly. A corset hugging me tightly, no matter what else I wear.
All black.
All my rings on my cold fingers.
My important jewelry put in the coffin with me, only a few pieces given to people.
A list of songs that must be played. A speech for someone to give written by me.
Lie out all my poetry. Then a piece of paper with all my usernames and passwords given. ‘Read it all.’
And after all of this, I would have gotten a sizable amount of pills. Shrooms. Marijuana. Presents of LSD and blunts for my drug-loving friends (even Nathan, Schuster, Dalsky) and Vicodin for Cowboy (not too much though, because I’m not sure how he’d take my death… he’s already suicidal).
All the pills, shrooms, and marijuana for me, me, me. I think I’d possibly do it in my car… Music loud, my laptop with me so I can look at photos of people.
First I’d smoke the mary jane after a cigarette. Smoke more cigarettes a pack of L&Ms and Marb reds. Then take the shrooms — wait 20 minutes. Smoke, smoke, smoke. Snort pills, swallow more.
Smoke.
Smoke.
Sit and listen to the music, smoke more.
Smoke.
Smoke.
Gone.
