I tried suspending a heavy object
from my ceiling,
testing a hook ***** I found
lying around in my room.

As soon as it fell,
I took some superglue
and squeezed it onto the *****'s threads,
hoping it'll stick into the ceiling well.

Superglue advertisements often endorse
their superb sticking ability;
let's see,
can it properly hang me?

My vision, slowly losing focus,
the bright lights fading into
bright circles,
the world eventually fading away.

My hearing, drowning in the silence;
oddly enough, there's a
loud buzzing, screaming,
telling me to stop.

My breathing, quiet, sniffing every now and then,
the movement of rib bones going up and down,
the feeling of a knife tracing my chest,
the way it poked me and made my heart bleed.

My mind, my heart.
Filled with feelings, yet almost none left for myself.
I'll always love other people,
but there isn't enough for me anyway.

What's the whole point, then?

Hello, death?
Yes, uh, hi. Calling because I wanted to clarify things.
When I said I wanted to die, I meant alone,
not with friends.

I don't want them to get caught in my selfishness,
Nor do I want their families to feel loss.
So yes, at least keep them safe; I'm fine with dying, I guess.
Anyway, until next time, death.