I failed at my suicide attempt, I spent I month, three weeks, eleven hours in a mental hospital. Were I was poked and prodeded with needleseds and injections, where they took the rest of my living body away and made it theirs. I didn't want the woods to heal, I didn't want the posin to seep out of me. I wanted to die, I wanted to continue dying. I wanted murder on their hands, the ones I called friends, family. I played their games, I pretended to get well. This is my first time out. Breathing the fresh air, unfiltered by cement walls and plastic carbon widows. I am free.
I am ready to make my secound attempt.
I learned nothing.