dear chemical depression diary,
there is a specific way to make noose or you won't die. but when you swallow that handfull of pills- what is the chance they will go down the wrong side of your neck? irony. kick out the box you were standing on, watch your life flash before your eyes- watch the blue color drain from the sky. feel all that blood gather in your head- you might pass out- but you ain't dead. you didn't follow directions in the boy scout book- you tied the knot wrong and now just look. you are alive again and hanging in the closet- like an outfit for church- dude- you've really lost it. are you disappointed? i certainly hope not, grab yourself a kleenex and blow your nasty snot. if you really wanted to do the job- you'da made the knot correct, you did it for attention- whose hand do you want to pet- you? it won't be mine- not this time- i ain't got time- for your shit. i do wish you well- in your life in hell- and hope that you are doing fine. let me know if you need any pills- i'll start saving the refills on mine.
