I’m planning my suicide again.

First, I would leave her.
Second, I would leave here.

I would mask it as me needing to go somewhere else.
Somewhere new. Vibrant. Beautiful. Cold.

I would write a letter for everyone important to me.
About a dozen or so.
I’d give them to the brothers, and ask them to get them to their owners.

I don’t have everyone’s mailing address.

And I would leave. For somewhere vibrant and beautiful and cold.
I would bury myself there.

I’m planning my suicide again.
I don’t know if I’ll ever do it,
But it’s nice to have a back up.