When I wake up, I'm in a hospital bed.
I find it morbidly ironic that I had thought so extensively about suicide only to end up alive in a hospital by someone else's hand.
I take in my surroundings and notice a gift box on the side table next to me. On the box is a note that reads, 'Here's a care package baby. Get better soon.' -mom.
I smile and open the package. In the box is a gun, noose, razor blades, and a picture of me and my mom with the eyes scratched out.
I stare in shock at the contents. What kind of awful fuck does this? As I stare at the contents of the box, I become increasingly hopeless.
Fuck it. Is the last thing I think before picking up the gun and shooting myself in the head.