Librarians don't have shotguns,
and neither do high school
dropouts,
like me.
How can you
shoot yourself,
or end your life
without a shotgun?1
I could slice my arm
wide open,
slice open the skin,
veins,
arteries,
drown in
my own blood.
Now that would be
payback at my mom
for all of her neglect.
She would be the one
to clean up my liquid life.
But do I really want to
be buried,
bloodless?2
No.
So what?
Well,
there's the rope,
under my bed.
It's from an old cowboy carnival
we had in elementary school.3
I sneak it down to the bathroom,
leaving the door open;
who's really
gonna walk in
at four
in the morning?
I tie a nice big knot
around the shower rod,
and a loop at the end,
just big enough
to fit a teenage boys
neck.4
I tighten it
until I can hardly breathe
and I stand on the edge
of the tub.5
Suspenseful,
inspiring music plays
somewhere in the depths
of my imagination.
My starved,
crying,
already dead
imagination
that was never used.
And then,
in the spur of the moment,
I 6
jump.7
Crash!8
Fuck!9
What the hell are you doing
Caden?10
How is it that mothers
can get to a room so
fast?11
And they yell out when
they see that you've done
something horrible?
(like pulled the shower
rod down into the tub,
where you have a tight rope
around your neck)
12
Librarians should have shotguns,
so my mom could kill me
rather than torturing me with
words that already
haunt me.
The same ones that
Kerry
used to stab me
in the gut with.13
We have to talk,
Caden,
now.14
Adding your comment:
That has to be the most not-thought-through, destined-to-fail suicide attempt I've ever heard of. It's effing perfect! 
Thank you for posting.
