by Art Redwood

Created on: June 27, 2008

You are caught in a desperate situation, you know that life cannot go on as it is, the pain is just to unbearable, yet you feel you should press on for the sake of the children.

Yet as the pressures of life continues to mount, and the pain increases, you make that decision, that lonely cold decision, and for an instant, you feel at peace, you know that it may not be the most noble of decisions ever made, but once it has been done every thing seems to become crystal clear, as plan and purpose are set in motion, and you are at peace with your inevitable end.

You take the tables those small little tables, that have sat on the table for an age, that you think would never really do any damage, and just as the last one is taken of all things the phone rings, it your mother, and she knows your upset, and asks if their anything she can do to help, you politely refuse, and start to cry as the receiver is placed on the hook.

You are ready to make your statement, to the people that have hurt you, you want to watch their eyes, as they watch your slowly close for the final time from this world, that will fix them, make then see the pain that you have endured, and suffered at their hand, and you start the walk, that's good, it will increase the metabolism, make the drugs work quicker, less chance to change your mind and reach out for some real help, and not just the lip service that you've been getting for just about forever.

You sit in the room all bright and cheery, laughing with the monsters, and they are unaware of the ticking time bomb thats sitting in the middle of them, and as the drugs slowly start to take effect, and they realize that you're not just joking, the revenge is sweet, as you fad slowly into the cold and dark embrace, and all you can remember is the shouting.

You don't remember most of the ambulance ride into hospital, just fragments, but you do remember, the stern doctor, who's telling you to drink that awful charcoal, that might absorb some of the poison, but they don't know how much has got into your system, and it's at that moment, as the doctor leaves and it's just you and a nurse who you've known for ages standing in that cold cubical, and she looks that look that says that this time, might actually be the time that you don't make it, that death this time is real option and for the first time in a long time you feel afraid.

And you feel the tears welling in your eyes, hoping that the tears themselves will expunge the poison in your system, but they don't

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