I think I need my prozac...

...and I need it now. I would get it right this minute but the pharmacy isn't open yet. I've called that crap in and now I'm just waiting for the store to open.

Luckily I realize that suicidal thoughts are a symptom of something that needs fixing. But if I sat here feeling like this for any length of time, I can easily see swallowing one pill every 5 minutes until I couldn't feel anymore loneliness. But, worry not, I won't do that. And I'm so annoyed about that because I can think of a BUNCH of rational reasons why suicide makes sense. But, bottom line, I'm not that stupid, I KNOW I need that damn prozac. I'll go get it later and maybe I'll be more fun. For now, this is what you get.

You know what I find odd? I actually felt like doing myself in without making life a bit miserable for my ex. How absent-minded is that? There has to be some way to do accomplish both of those goals. Even if I just offed myself on his doorstep...I'd have to be somewhat of a pest. I'll be damned if I'm going gently into that good night.

Often I hear from people who say they're going through the same thing that I'm going through so I have to assume that there are some people out there who have suicidal thoughts but wouldn't ever consider discussing them. I have to say something to those people...so send this to any suicidal people you know:

Did you guys read the headlines regarding David Carradine? It would appear that at best he died in the middle of some kinky masturbatory ritual involving tying a penis to a throat and at worst he choked himself on purpose. I guess the only way to know for sure is to check for "love jam". If he left a bit of a mess next to himself, he probably went out with a smile on his face. If not, he was miserable and couldn't find a gun. I don't picture Carradine as someone who would go into a suicidal venture unprepared.

I don't think anyone purposely kills them self while nude. I wouldn't do that...EVER! If you find me nude with my wrists slit, look for a murderer because I might slit my wrists, but I would never do it nude.

Actually, I doubt that I would slit my wrists anyway. That seems rather harsh and painful. Of course there's a hideous mess to be cleaned up afterward and who should do that? Once again, if I WERE to slit my wrists, I'd do it on my ex's front porch. Let HIM clean my congealed blood off the steps. I'll purposely bleed all over before I pass out.

Gun shots are usually efficient but once again, what a MESS! I picture Samuel L. Jackson on brain detail and that's not any better than wiping up blood. Once again, if I were to do it, on the porch of my ex.

Pills seem easy enough but they can be sort of iffy. Not only can you wake up, you can wake up in a locked, empty room with someone peeking in the door window every 15 minutes. Not this bitch. I really, really don't like having my extremities restrained.

Let's see...what else is there? Hanging is no good because I don't want to be out in the open like that. Especially if I lose all muscle control and make a mess in my pants. (IMPORTANT SUICIDE HINT-give yourself an enema and pee right before you kill yourself. It's the polite thing to do.)

What we need is a fun suicide method. Thelma and Louise did it right. Yep...I'd like to drive off of a cliff. Of course, that's something best done with a friend. It just sounds like more fun if you're raising your hands up shouting, "YEEEEEHAAA!!!" on the way down...a friend makes it more fun, don't you think?

Yep That's it. I'm driving off a cliff and I'm doing it with someone else. Now all I have to do is find another suicidal old lady. Oh, and I need to pick up my prozac.


Résumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Dorothy Parker