Quietly, I sit. I wait, I think, I hope. In the dark, cold room, I glare at the door, waiting for someone to waltz in. In a house full of friends, full of family, and full of acquaintances, I loudly blurt out, “I have pills and I’ll take them! And no one can stop me!” I grab a wine glass that’s half empty on my way out. I run up the stairs dramatically, stomping my feet loudly, trying to cause a ruckus.



My parent’s party was the perfect time for this outburst. The perfect time for me to rupture the happy mood, and focus the attention on myself. After wildly slamming my door, I somehow end up here, on my bed, in the dark, quietly listening for footsteps to approach. After ten minutes of listening to hushed and faded whispers, I hear music begin to rise again.



A tear falls from my face. I can’t believe it. It’s like nothing happened. None of them even remember me. I am a faded memory to them. A thought in the back of their minds. I am, a stranger.


My shaky hand clutched an orange bottle. “They probably thought I was kidding.” I whisper to myself. I pour four little white pills into my palm. I put them in my mouth and pick up the wine glass.

I stop. I hear footsteps. They are coming up the stairs. I can hear them. I know someone is there. I see a shadow in the hall. I put the glass down. I taste the bitter sensation of the pills dissolving. I smile. Someone is there. Suddenly, I hear the loud groan of a toilet flush, and footsteps descending back down the stairs.

My heart drops. Tears gently brush my washed out cheeks. I swallow hard. I pick the wine up, and force the pills down, knowing this is a deadly combination. I lay my back to my bed and sob.


I think, this is how is ends for me. This is how things work out. My plan is foiled, my charade is done. I sigh, thinking how I never wanted to hurt anyone, especially myself.


All I really ever wanted was to see who cared enough to try and stop me…