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My friends look at me, the grief already flickering into their eyes whenever they hold there for just a beat too long. I can see it now. I would lie there, my bedroom.                                                              Or the shower. And there would be no mess. I would be pure                                                                                    and                                                                                             clean. Easy to get rid of. Just like normal, everyone would say. Didn’t want to bother us. And they’d laugh, lightly. Just another typical thing. Of course I went out like this, I mean. We all saw it coming, didn’t we? You can see the noose around my neck, my own sword of Damocles, but without the blood. One slip                                                    /                                                        one stumble, and I’m just hanging there. And it’s not anyone else’s fault, really. No one could’ve helped me untie the knots, could’ve taken the pills, could’ve put the razors away. And I’ll tell them all this, comfort them. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It wasn’t ever anyone’s fault but my own. I’m basically half-gone by now, anyways.
0
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 3:56 AM UTC
i would be such a good corpse
My friends look at me, the grief already flickering into their eyes whenever they hold there for just a beat too long. I can see it now. I would lie there, my bedroom.                                                              Or the shower. And there would be no mess. I would be pure                                                                                    and                                                                                             clean. Easy to get rid of. Just like normal, everyone would say. Didn’t want to bother us. And they’d laugh, lightly. Just another typical thing. Of course I went out like this, I mean. We all saw it coming, didn’t we? You can see the noose around my neck, my own sword of Damocles, but without the blood. One slip                                                    /                                                        one stumble, and I’m just hanging there. And it’s not anyone else’s fault, really. No one could’ve helped me untie the knots, could’ve taken the pills, could’ve put the razors away. And I’ll tell them all this, comfort them. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It wasn’t ever anyone’s fault but my own. I’m basically half-gone by now, anyways.
Written by
QLD, Australia
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 3:56 AM UTC
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