Lucky Shot :: essays research papers

LUCKY SHOT. I sit in my room with a gun on my left and pills on my right. I sit and think – is it worth living another day? It’s a difficult question, which I think about every night. I look to my left, then to my right. I should have gone to sleep I tell myself, and hope tomorrow will be different. It’s time just to give up! I try to think about something positive in my life but there’s nothing to think of. Maybe the years I don’t remember were good, but I doubt that. I turn to my left again and stair at the gun. The gun isn’t loaded yet but I have one bullet sitting on the table waiting for this special occasion. Maybe it would be easier to take the pills. It’s much quieter and clearer that way. But maybe I should leave ‘HELL’ with a bang? But then again it’s not my style. My whole life I was quiet; I think that the suffering should end – yes! I grab the bottle and open the lid. For some reason I pour the pills on the bed and begin to count them. Twenty-one. That should do it. I grab one pill and carry it towards my mouth, but I am unable to put it in. I place the pill back on the bed. I look up at the ceiling thinking. My neck begins to hurt, but it doesn’t bother me – I’ll be dead soon. I start to wonder if my life would have been any different if God was a part of it. My neck begins to hurt more so I bring my head down and stare at the wall. As I’m staring at the wall, I try to build up confidence to end it all. I never had any confidence. My misery will soon end. Why can’t I just do it? The world will be better off with out me, one less useless person in the world. Hell can’t be worse then this. Lucky Shot :: essays research papers LUCKY SHOT. I sit in my room with a gun on my left and pills on my right. I sit and think – is it worth living another day? It’s a difficult question, which I think about every night. I look to my left, then to my right. I should have gone to sleep I tell myself, and hope tomorrow will be different. It’s time just to give up! I try to think about something positive in my life but there’s nothing to think of. Maybe the years I don’t remember were good, but I doubt that. I turn to my left again and stair at the gun. The gun isn’t loaded yet but I have one bullet sitting on the table waiting for this special occasion. Maybe it would be easier to take the pills. It’s much quieter and clearer that way. But maybe I should leave ‘HELL’ with a bang? But then again it’s not my style. My whole life I was quiet; I think that the suffering should end – yes! I grab the bottle and open the lid. For some reason I pour the pills on the bed and begin to count them. Twenty-one. That should do it. I grab one pill and carry it towards my mouth, but I am unable to put it in. I place the pill back on the bed. I look up at the ceiling thinking. My neck begins to hurt, but it doesn’t bother me – I’ll be dead soon. I start to wonder if my life would have been any different if God was a part of it. My neck begins to hurt more so I bring my head down and stare at the wall. As I’m staring at the wall, I try to build up confidence to end it all. I never had any confidence. My misery will soon end. Why can’t I just do it? The world will be better off with out me, one less useless person in the world. Hell can’t be worse then this.