Dreams Only Last for a Night.

Suicide.
You ever thought about it? I'd say everyone has just thought about it in one way or another.
Considering suicide. . That's a different thing. I believe that most of the people that think about suicide, they consider suicide. And then more of those people, they go on to actually attempting it. It's sad, but I think it's pretty true.

I've been considering suicide for at least a year now. Every night, before I go to sleep, you know when you're in that state between being awake and about to fall asleep? I think about it then. I've thought about why I would do it. . I've thought about how, when, where. I've thought about the note I would leave for my parents. I've thought about what I would do on my last day. . I've covered it all.
I'm in that state again.. so close to finally falling asleep after one of the worst days of my life, and I can't stop thinking about what Jack said to me today. His words are ringing in my head like a fucking fire alarm.
"Nobody wants you Alex. No one. And no one cares about you here. Do us all a favor and leave..."

He's right. No one, aside my parents maybe, wants me. I'm never gonna find a guy. And even if I was interested in another gay guy, he wouldn't want me? I'm fucking different. And apparently that's not acceptable. No one will ever understand. And Jack, he's never gonna stop torturing me like this. I don't see the point in me being here, if every day all I get is more and more abuse.
So that's why I've decided to go. I can't take it anymore. I just can't. I've tried to shake it off, and tell myself it'll get better.. but it never will. What's the point in being alive if you can't live your life?
Tomorrow morning.. I'll do it then. Before my dad gets up for work, or my mum gets up to let Matt out into the garden.. I'll get up at 5am. I'll write the note. I'll leave it outside my door for my parents. Then I'll get all the pills from the medicine cabinet downstairs. I'll see whatever is left, and I'll down them all. And that'll be it. I'll be gone then, peacefully asleep. . Never have to deal with that shit ever, ever again.
And I'll never have to see his face ever again...

* * * * *
With empty plastic canisters sprawled all over the bed, a note below the door, music that I wasn't paying attention to playing softly in the back ground, I lay on my bed feeling the oddest, most peaceful feeling I've ever felt. Everything was becoming harder to do. Harder to move my fingers, harder to think, harder to breath in. And I knew it was happening. I was going to be dead in a matter of minutes. And that 's okay. I chose to do this. I've chosen to leave this life, and never have to go through what I have again.
He was the last thing I thought of before I blacked out completely.