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The Death of Me

Short story By: Charlie Scene

This story is of a man with nothing to grasp on to.

Submitted:Mar 15, 2010    Reads: 57    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

As I held the cold dead revolver to my head the only thing I could think of was the pleading of the dispatcher to not to do it as it reported the suicide. I guess she couldn't believe that i called for my own death. I was sitting in my dead black room with just one lamp on. I was tired of everything in my life and decided to end it but everytime i tried before I just couldn't do it. This time it was a matter of time before the cops came and stopped me so I knew this was the last time. I thought it was pretty funny how someone I've never seen tried to plead me not to do it. Only if i met her a little earlier maybe this situation could have been resovled. The end had come and in my own desperate plea I had no decision to change my mind. I'm facing the dark with no one beside me and no one to keep me warm i thought. I kept taking the xnax and zoloft the doctors gave me. I went through half the bottle and now i took two more and was going to end it. I started to cry and laugh at the same time. I held the friendly revolver to my mouth and sang what my mother always used to sing to me when I was a kid. Just as i hear the door break down I pull it. I've saw nothing but black yet the blackness made me feel no emotion and no regret. I love my new world filled with emptyness and quiteness. It's black so I can't see the man I was before.


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