As I put the barrel to my head, the cold metal will extract the memory of you, the last thing on my mind will be the way you so effortlessly forgot me and disregarded my emotions. The way you lied and smiled through it, pretending as if you still loved me while all feelings of love had already gone to somebody else.  The thought of you will be forced up by the rope that pushes up against my chin as it tries to slip up my throat.  The pills that I put down my throat will be a representation of me trying to push the memories of you down again.  Your memory will flow free with the blood that escapes my arms and legs as I slice them open.  When I fall, your memory will float to the top of my mind.  The last thought on my mind will be you, because you of all people are to blame.