Teenage Suicide: Don't Do It. Nah. Go Ahead, Do It

I’m struggling for something to write about today. When in doubt go to your old stand-bys in this case depression and suicide. Yay! Fun.

I was thinking about killing myself the other day and once again realized I lack the tools and skills to accomplish the task. I don’t own a gun, I can’t tie a noose and I can’t swallow pills. What’s a depressed girl to do? Monday evening, as I placed a nacho chip drenched in cheese and refried beans on my tongue, it dawned on me—I could kill myself with heart disease. All I have to do is eat deep fried bar food three times a day everyday. The arteries of my heart should harden to impassability in no time—like 20-30 years. I’ll take that over the 70-80 years I probably have left. The best thing about the heart disease method is that I’m right handed, so as the left side of my body seizes up in pain as my heart stops I’ll still be able to write my suicide note—genius. Or of course I could start writing it now and really have it polished by the time the end comes. It could be the best written thing I ever composed.