What's to stop me?

A bleeding wrist,
Crying eyes,
Stink of vomit.
What's to stop me from doing it now,
Tears running down my eyes, I'm wasting time.
I'm a light one; my life half-lived
It would only take a packet to break away.
Maybe even half.
Some gin, a knife,
A hot bathtub,
A packet of pills and water to swallow them.
Run the water, slit the skin,
And wait until death meets me.