Little Red Pills

Spilled out in front of me they taunt me. They asked if I am going to have the courage to do it. A glass of water, an empty house, a month’s worth of sleeping pills. Do I have the courage? Do I have the guts?

One by one I count the little red friends in front of me. Sixty little tablets in all. Sixty tries and sixty disappointments. I organize them into lines, into shapes, into a picture spread out across the counter.

A note written on the fancy stationary given to me to write thank you notes on. Thank you notes to people who’ve long ago forgotten me. Calligraphy pen dripping ink like the blood dripping down my arm. A note of myself, my legacy, my story. A note that in my only remaining way of communication. A note signed with my good signature, practiced time and time again just for this purpose.

I’m upset and no one is their for me. No one cares anymore, and neither do I. I live in a constant state of apathy. I cry for you, for me, for all my loss. Ready.

I toss my head back, swallow the water & wait..

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