How does it feel like?

How does it feel like?
Being wishing to suicide, what does it feel like?
Nobody knows.
But I know.

Nobody thinks or truely believe that I'm going to kill myself. Nobody.
I don't need to convince them.
I'm happy together with them on daily basis.
There's no need to burden them with misery of my life. My personal life.
My only myself fucking life.

Because, the truth, the destiny, the future is: I'm going to kill myself.
Before the suicide, I just want to be happy.
I mean, spending every last days of my life, live to the fullest, live happily with them.
Live my last days with friends.

How does it feel like?
Everyday wake up, wishing you are gonna die today so that you don't have to wake up tomorrow. Because every waking means another day to kill.
Another hours of life to crack your brain thinking what to do?
It's pain.
It feels like dragging yourself.
Open your eyes, drag yourself in front of Facebook knowing how other people are busy with their life, realising that yourself don't have anything to do for the day.
Then, you think of eating. Not sure you're gonna eat breakfast or lunch at that time.
So, you say "screw it", and you just eat.
But after few mouths, you feel eating is meaningless.
You throw away those unfinished foods and light a cigarette.
The thing in your mind when you are smoking is: why smoking kills me so slowly?
You hope just finish one cigarette, you can just die.
How does it feel like?

When you finally give up begging cigarettes to kill you, you decide to take a bath.
After bath, you put on some decent nice clothes, set your hair.
Looking in the mirror, try to make yourself looks cool.
You don't know why you are making yourself look so non-suicidal, while deep down, you wish you are going to wear this into hell.
Stop fantasizing suicide, you take out your handphone, browse through the contact list or look for any unread messages. Then, if you are fortunate enough, you'll get someone who is also bored as well to accompany you.

If you get company, you can put the suicide though in a small box untill later.
When there's company, you laugh, you joke, you chat. You are happy.

If you don't get company, you still can put the suicide though in a small box untill later.
When there's no company, you take a bus, go out, go somewhere.
You think of trying something new, something fresh, buy something to reward yourself for looking so cool today.
Then, you do it. You do it alone. But, you do it happily also.

After happy time with company, or a private happy time yourself, you come back to your room.
It's night. Take some bath, you think.
But, the porn seems interesting online. So, you jerk off yourself before taking bath.
After taking off fancy clothes that you've been wearing whole day, you feel empty.
Empty like hell.
That's the time when the suicide though you kept in the small box, comes out and fill the empty spaces in yourself.
Suddenly, sitting in front of Facebook, you feel like morning again.
Everyone on Facebook had a busy day doing what they did for the day.
But you also tired like them, the difference is you don't know what you've done for the day that makes you so tired.

You feel like you want to type on Facebook shoutout and says " I'm going to fucking kill myself !!!". But, everyone will care and comment on your status. You knew it.
You know those comments won't do any good for you.
Even though those words are really very inspiring.
Because you know, inspiration doesn't work on you anymore.
In conclusion, you don't type those of your own shit on Facebook shoutout.

You feel like shouting your heart.
You put on some depression or suicidal songs on laptop.
Your favourite is Mika's 'Happy Ending'
No hope, no love, no glory. No happy ending.
You like those songs.
You put them on repeat mode to listen and listen again.

When you decide nothing much you can do for the day already, you notice one last thing.
You see a bottle of tequila or vodka lying on the floor, posing so sexily seducing you to drink it.
Finally, you drink it and you are drunk and you eventually close your eyes and you finally asleep...and you dream about things.
Final finally, you wake up the next day hoping that your death in dream is true and you realise the whole thing repeat itself with variation of whether the middle part with or without company and you finally realise there's no finally untill you finally dead.

This is the last chapter.
At least I go blogging before drunk (it's equal to bed) tonight.

This is...one of my last words.
How does it feel like?