I was all alone again.
I sat down in the middle of the room and laid my arsenal around me in a circle.
I placed the gun at the north, the pills to the east, the knife to the south and the poison to the west.
I had to consider this very carefully.
They all have their advantages and disadvantages. Except for the gun, the other 3 did not have a 100% success rate. I personally did not want to wake up in the hospital feeling like a wreck.
Not like the last time...
2:00 pm
Still no decision but I lay plastic wrap all around me.
I didn't want to make a mess.
The memories came flooding back. It occurred to me that I may have been going to fast that night. So was the drunk driver who hit me, though he shouldn't even be on the road that night.
I didn't see him at all.
I just wanted to go home.
When I woke up, I felt nothing.
Sure my body hurt. I couldn't move at all without feeling pain. I had bandages covering my face, arms and most of my body but my skin didn't hurt.
I couldn't even feel my skin.
That's the problem with burns. You want them to hurt. The more it hurts the lesser the damage, the faster it gets better.
Third degree burns don't hurt because there's nothing left on your skin to feel the pain. No nerves, sometimes even no muscle.
I never knew how vain I was till that day. I never realized how I appreciated my looks, even though I wasn't a stunning beauty or anything. I always said I didn't wear makeup or style my hair because I didn't care about how I looked.
I was wrong.
I also knew we had no money.
No money for miracles. We only had money to save my life.
3:00 pm
All this thinking (and crying) made me hungry. I got up and microwaved some left over pizza I found in the refrigerator.
My last meal: leftover bacon and cheeseburger pizza. I was grumpy. I didn't even bother to get my favorite pizza for my last meal?
I pull out my notebook and start on the first draft of my suicide note.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm sorry and I love you.
I tear the page off and start a new one.
I tried using a tape recorder once.
I poured my heart out into it. I cried, I explained to them why I was leaving, why everything didn't matter anymore and why my cousins shouldn't get all my stuff. I probably would have sang if I found a minus one tape... Or a tape recorder that can handle the task.
I made the mistake of listening to it.
I destroyed the tape ( nobody must hear it again), threw it away and hid the tape recorder to prevent me from making another disaster of a suicide note.
The first draft of my suicide note came out fine. A 78 word autobiography.
My life and death in 78 words.
Hmmm.
I write it down again slowly on a clean sheet of paper. When you're dead you can't tell people that the word you wrote was message and not massage.
4:00 pm
Finished the letter. Still deciding on how to go.
I go through the items in my circle again, weighing each one on efficiency, swiftness, pain level, and messiness.
I lay down on my back and close my eyes to think better and fell asleep on the floor.
5:00 pm
The door opens and he comes in.
he wakes me up with a kiss.
A kiss that hasn't changed for 5 years, even after the accident.
I wake up and look at myself.
My hair was a mess and I tried to smoothen it out with my hand.
His eyes are the only mirrors I allowed in the house.
He smiles. "Time's up."
I nodded.
"Was it the note?"
I shook my head.
"I mean last year with the tape recorder..."
I hand him my handwritten letter.
"You fell asleep didn't you?" he read the lines. "I told you it was a hard decision."
"I wanted to jump but nobody dies from jumping from the ground floor."
"Find a building then." He hands me back my letter and opens up the bag he was holding.
"I have tequila and Pringles. Let's celebrate"
We started cleaning up: I folded the plastic wrap and he took the bullets off the gun.
I took the pills to the bathroom and returned the knife in the kitchen. He was hiding the poison inside the toolbox.
"You know, I think your poison has a best before date."
"I know, I haven't used it since college."
I sat down with the iodized salt and kalamansi slices. He gave me my first shot.
"Are you doing this again?"
"Maybe next year."
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