Oh no, not me

I woke up this morning with my hair pointing in thirty different directions and my mascara smeared all around my eyes. True raccoon eyes. I wasn't sure how my body was reacting to all that I drank the night before; it could have gone either way. After Brittany and Andrew left, I got some water and slowly sipped it, hoping that the vortex of evil in my stomach would settle and I wouldn't vomit. Well, it didn't settle, and while channel surfing my tummy was flipping itself around, so I went to the bathroom and shoved my fingers down my throat and up came last night's Awesome Blossom from Chili's. I tasted every onion, every bread crumb, every bit of dipping sauce. I tasted it about three times as I was over the porcelain bowl. Then my mouth had that ewwwww taste and no matter what I did, the leftovers were still present. I said fuck it and went back to bed until 1pm.

Some people put me in a bad mood. Like they don't care about the words that come from their mouths. What is formed with tongues and teeth and jaws and vocal chords are just sounds, not spears that can pierce your skin and make you bleed. Well, some people make me tick even though I shouldn't let them get to me...and...go fuck yourself, okay? Thanks.

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My feet are dangling off the edge of the pier. They are four feet away from the dark, endless water. It will swallow me if I jump in. I can belly flop right now and not turn my face to the sky, but keep it down. I don't have to breathe. Just think until I stop and I die. What if I killed myself right now? What would people think? How would my friends and family react to the news of my suicide? Death by drowning. I can swim so it's not like I'd actually drowned. People are around, so if I slipped in and started to scream, people could hear me and save me. It'd look like I committed suicide. And I dont see why that's so bad. I'd just want to kill myself for everyone else's reaction though. Then again, once I'm dead, I won't be able to tell, so drowning wouldn't do me any good. I'm sure that I'd regret the decision in the last few seconds of my life when it's too late to change my mind. And hey, would I really want to die in the ocean? There are fish and crabs and birds that will pick me apart. I'd want a full body when the search and rescue team found me because an open casket is a must. Just so everyone can see me one last time and question what did they miss? How could they not tell that I was suicidal? How do you explain to someone that you died just to see their reactions. It doesn't make sense any which way you cut it.

So I swing my feet back up on the wooden dock and walk toward the swings. The sky is too beautiful when the sun is setting on the water. The ocean is a mirror for the sky's beauty. I wonder if the sky is vain. Does it know how gorgeous it is when it's pink and dark blue with spots of grey cloud? And I'm kicking rocks and humming The Beatles, watching dogs play in the sand, and a little boy and his father throwing rocks into the water, disturbing the peace of the water. But that's okay. Whatever. The swings are free. What if I died on the swings. That would be pretty sweet. I'll just pump my legs in and out until my heart gives out. It could take a while, but it shows my dedication to get the job done. The obits could say that I was a loving daughter, sister and friend with a bright future because of my perseverance. This chick was 100% all the way, even when it came to suicide: she pumped herself to death. Death. What's the deal with that shit, anyway. It's funny how death is the only guarantee in life. An ironic friendship the two have, eh? Death only exists because of life and life is shorted by death. But which one is the enemy? Sometimes life sucks so much, death is the better option. But dying makes families and friends feel alone and sad. Too many tears with death. But what if I let my heart give out this second? It wouldn't be suicide, I guess. How could they prove that it was not natural causes? Maybe my little heart just gave out after being on the swings too long. I mean, I'm a normal girl with a normal life. I'm basically sane and there aren't too many shitty things which complicate it, beyond the usual stresses. I have a good head on my shoulders, and bright possibilities in front of me. So why would I ever want to kick my own bucket? I just want to see their faces. I bet they'd miss me at least a smidge. Maybe they will weep and lay in bed for weeks. Maybe someone will take up drinking and someone else will start smoking and doing drugs. I can ruin lives by ending my own.

Death would be kind of cool, you gotta admit. Because it's a party on the other side. We can eat, drink and be merry because we're already dead. I bet everyone gets along really well once their dead. Who can be angry with no souls? Nothing to feel but numbness. That would be cool, too. I could just sit somewhere and let myself die from the cold. Death by freezing isn't so bad, huh? I mean, you go numb after a while, so you don't feel anything. Bodies just shut down slowly and it just ends. Kaput. Nada. Zilch. And once you're nothing, you become friends with all the other nothings and sit around and fantasize about your funeral while shoving s'mores in your mouth. Maybe Hitler's not so bad because he's dead.

My hearts pumping faster than my legs and the swings are screeching. The rusty chains against the rusty bar makes it sound like I'm killing someone. Just stabbing them repeatedly, getting their blood all over my hands and arms and face. Or like I'm running someone over. Just putting the gear into D then R, D then R, D then R. And I love their screeching and their sobs; it's my anti-drug.

I'll just get off the swings now because I dont like the way death sounds.