I had it all ready.

My parents wouldn’t care.

It would be a blessing for me to be gone.

I take a deep breath and take a final look in the mirror. My dark skin. Even darker eyes. The black hair I could never keep back. The scar on my cheek.

I run a hand through my hair, exhale, and open the mirror to see the different bottles of pills glaring at me; tempting me.

It would hurt the least. Less than the blade. But it might take longer. The rope would be quicker.

I reach for a bottle, twist the cap, and pour a few pills in my hand. I take another bottle and do the same.

I take a look at the drugs in my hand. I sigh, tilt my head back, and drop the pills in my mouth.

“JOHNNY!” I heard my drunk mother screech.

I spit the pills back into my hands.

I wouldn’t do this in front of my mother. Even though she was awful, she still is my mom. Im still her son.