It’ll be exactly 2 weeks before I kill myself. Memorial Day is the day. I can finally join my fellow comrades. I put myself here and allowed this trainwreck of an existence to carry on. My mind is made up and there’s no going back. I just want to make sure the collateral damage is kept to a minimum. The last thing I want to do is spiral into an incel like Elliot Rodger. Although I’m far from a virgin, I’ve reduced myself to pornography as of late. If I’m going to end it in style I’ve got to be on my A game and sober tip top shape. I will not relapse into a drug addled state. I want to do this sober. I’ve got a lot to do. The best way to live is with a sense of proactive urgency. The only way to effectively reach that state is to be in touch with one’s mortality. Let’s get this suicide mission rolling.

The next week is super busy; getting my ducks in a row– taking care of all my affairs; getting life insurance; checking my insurance with the military so when I pass my kid gets half a milli; ordering stuff from the dark web; deleting all my dating profiles; calling my kids mother Anastasia to make sure I’m on good terms. Apparently she’s moving to St Pete to live with her new boyfriend. It’s getting serious but my son’s going to switch schools because of it. The damage I put him through just by my mere existence. He’d be better off without me. He doesn’t need me. He never did. I got in the way of his innocence. I called him one last time and we listened to My singing Monsters “Bone Island”. It was so good to leave on a positive note that he could remember me by. I made peace with my mom the other day for mother’s day. We’ve always bonded over game rooms and slot machines. So after the Thai restaurant that’s what we did.. and she won $60.

It’s now Friday the 26th and there’s 3 days before I kill myself. I keep to my routine and run 3 miles at 6am. I see a happy middle age couple walking their dogs. How fuckin lovely. They must’ve done everything right in life. They clearly learned how to manage their anger. Not me. Look where it’s got me. I cascade my jog into my humble abode where my camper’s set up on a vacant property next to my dad’s house. I put my pathetic self here at age 37. Fuckin loser. I take a shower and get ready for 3 hours of intensive outpatient group therapy on zoom with the VA. Again, I put myself here. Thank God in three days I’m choosing to take myself out of here. Objectively, though, I’m just getting back on my feet. This can actually be perceived as a decent life. However the point is I’ve always wanted to kill myself. When I was younger I wanted to go out with a bang, but now, because I’ve had kids, I want the least amount of collateral damage when I off myself. I want to humbly depart this Earth. After the zoom meeting I get the mail. I open the package and, as advertised, the 10mm Sig Sauer P320 I ordered from the dark web. Most markets have been taken down by the FBI so things have gotten more expensive. ASAP market is probably the best right now. Got this battle tested beauty for $800. Now youre probably thinking that I’m going to blow my brains out. I haven’t decided yet if I can muster up the balls to do that. The last thing I want is for my third suicide attempt to be botched in which I end up a fried vegetable. The first suicide attempt was in 2009 in West Virginia. I was engaged in a PTSD program sponsored by the lovely military and I just couldn’t stomach the patience. So I gulped a bunch of Xanax I ordered online, left the facility, then proceeded to have one last hurray at the casino in Martinsburg. I lost most of my money. I decide to get a hotel to hang myself. I take a bed sheet and tie it to the showerhead. I get on my knees like Robin Williams and let go of my body weight. After 2 minutes the suffocations kicking in. Then of course the showerhead snaps. I get up and say fugg it and go to the local strip club. My Sergeant from Washington DC drives down to West Virginia, reads my pathetic fragile mind, walks into the strip club and hand cuffs my sorry ass. What a poetic scene. He takes me back to the psych ward at Walter Reed. I do another excruciating 4 months locked down. My second miserable attempt happened during covid in November 2021. I was heavy, neck deep in the drug game. I was on cocaine, fentanyl, and meth, and was up for 4 days straight. Long story short– we were under surveillance, coupled with the fact I was super paranoid and absolutely sick how much of a loser I been reduced to, so I jumped out from the backseat of a 60mph moving car. I rolled perfectly without hitting my head. However, I got really bad road rash. Even my foot because my idiot self thought it was cool to wear flipflops. A dude on a motorcycle dodged my fat roly poly gymnastics and flipped off his bike. I immediately get up and step over the bridge rail without looking. I remember scraping the pillar to break the fall. Clearly my instincts didn’t want me to die. My insignificant life of course flashed before my eyes. The report said I was under water for 7 minutes before someone pulled me up (it took 2 weeks to get all the water out of my lungs). I remember after they pulled me on the boat I was half naked because I lost my shorts in the water. Lol my small sad junk flashed before everyone else’s eyes! I remember saying “wtf I’m still alive” before jumping back into the water. When they got me on land, they put me on a stretcher. I wake up and run away before getting tackled by police. Next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital with a breathing tube down my throat. I was in a wheelchair for 2 weeks and I had to get a lawyer to get out of the looney bin. You see this is why a gunshot to the head is the best. It takes a lot of balls to do. However there are a lot of vegetables that have survived that very scenario. If anything it’s a good backup.

It’s noon and I find myself now sitting in an AA meeting. I’ve been going to this one as of late because it’s across the street from my gym. It’s like a nursing home here in Port Charlotte. I can’t relate to anyone, especially a “higher power”. To be frank, I just go for the free coffee to get wired up for the gym at 1. I also have never talked once while these needy old farts pour their heart out worshipping this program. Maybe today’s the day I say something? What does it matter at this point: I’ll be getting rammed in the ass by the Higher Power in 3 days. “Hi my name is Frank. I’m an Alcoholic.” HI FRANK. “this programs for brainwashed idiots. You morons treat it just like a self-help program. You use the steps as a feeble blueprint to guide your conduct. Notice how there’s no one young here but me. That’s because the brain doesn’t fully develop til your 30-40ish. That’s why your sober. That’s why younger people go through multiple relapses. I hate to burst your bubble but there is no higher power. Life is a series of nows then you die. Your ego is the higher power and you need to get over yourself and get in touch with the brutal raw power of truth.” Of course I didn’t say that. What I really said was “Hi my name is Frank and I’m an alcoholic. Just wanted to say hi and I’m just going to sit back and listen today.” Of course my painfully introverted loser ass chickened out yet again. But hey there’s free coffee! When I get to the gym I scan my tag and say hello to the cool employee (the only person I know here.. yet I never got his name). I grab a ridiculously priced energy drink and he rings me up. He says “there’s something different about you today man”. I tell him it’s the caffeine dude. This right here’s my third fix today. Little does he know that the “something different” about me today is the new drip of urgency I’m giving off because of the pending doom I’ve scheduled in three days. I’m still a passive loser, but today I’m feeling a little more sure of myself. So I hit up the bench press. I’m at 275 for 8 reps. I blast Within the Ruins “waste of life” into my ear canal. Next to me is the squat rack. This white girl that looks like a blond 22 year old J Lo peaks over at me. This is the one I want to smash. She’s not conceited like the blond girl who comes on Sundays thinking she’s a super model dancing taking selfies in the mirror. This girl is quiet and well-mannered. But of course I freeze up. My minds telling me “you’re fuckin pathetic dude I’m glad your gonna off yourself. It’s best you don’t talk to her anyway. I don’t want you chickening out in 3 days.” So after the bench press I go to the stairmaster. 10 minutes later the cute blond girl picks the stairmaster right next to me when she had 4 other choices to the right. She’s walking sideways on the stairmaster looking directly at me 2 feet away. This can’t be a coincidence I’m thinking. It’s time to man up, bro. I point at her ear and she pulls out her Bluetooth earbud. I say “I was wondering why do you walk sideways like that?” She says “it hits different muscles in the legs.” I say “if I tried that I’ll trip and fall lol”. “what’s your name?” ASHLEY. “Im Frank it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re constantly running into each other lol.” She tells me she’s 23 and that Im intense and workout hard like I’m training for something. I tell her it’s mental.. tapping into one’s sense of urgency. That I like to kill it (little does she know lol). I have her put my number in her phone and I run off to the water fountain then exit the premises. I get a text message from her the next morning. She asks what I’m doing on Memorial Day. I tell her YOU. She lols. I tell her to meet me downtown punta Gorda at 7. I’ve gotta lot of stuff to do this weekend, especially Monday.

I walk into the bank and fill out a slip to withdraw 9k. How worthless and sad that this is all I have to show. You just get one spin at life and this is all I have to show for. I could just rob this god damn place. What would it matter in 2 days. But of course I’m a good little boy. The teller doesn’t want to give me the money without asking a bunch of questions. After about 20 minutes I leave and go home. I put the envelope under my dad’s doormat. Then I go to Dunkin donuts to use their wifi. I use to get their signature lattes until I discovered all the hidden sugars. 180g of damn sugar per latte to be exact. Direct Diabetes. So I ask the nerd red head girl if I can have just a decaf ice coffee no sugar. She puts a shit ton of cream in it. I just laugh. At this point what does anything matter. I straight up ask the disabled red head if she’s single. I tell her to put my number in her phone. I really did that. Why the fuck not. She’s good practice. Sunday morning I go to the gym and what do ya know. A creature of habit. The blond “super model” girl is looking at herself in the mirror at the squat rack. I’m thinking why the fuck not? I only have one day toward my departure anyway. I blast All That Remains “empty inside” and step to the squat rack right next to her. I’m going to do deadlifts instead. Then she takes the bar from her squat rack and puts it on the ground setting herself up for deadlifts as well. She gives me a smug look. Then tried to put a plate onto the bar. I walk two steps and lift the bar up for her so she can slide the plate on. She doesn’t know what to say probably because she acts like a child and no one likes her. I tell her you look like a blond Angelina Jolie. She stutters “omg thank you so much”. She tells me she works at the fine dining restaurant Perfect Caper. She asks what I do. I tell her Im a funeral director. Dumb bitch didn’t question the lie lols. She tells me to take her number down. I tell her I don’t do that. She can have my number. I give her a fake number: the Dunkin donuts girl LOL. Then I finish up my set and hit the stairmaster. When she’s done she walks by me all elevated stepping up and all and waves goodbye. I smile. Normally I hide behind my smile and it hurts me inside. But today it was the opposite. The sheer freedom pressured by this sense of urgency spurred by my impending doom tomorrow. I also stopped masturbating for a week. I heard holding in all those luscious nutrients is good for you and forces you to direct your energy into the real world. I ride my bike back home. This truck pulls onto the sidewalk. I fuckin hate when they go on the sidewalk. No fuckin courtesy. I literally drive an inch away from the truck and dude says HEY. I tell him fuck you dude. If I had an RPG I’d blow up every car on the damn sidewalk.

Today is the last day before I kill myself. My mind: “YOUR NOT GOING TO BACK OUT YOU PUSSY.” Me: “of course not”. YOUR HAVING SECOND THOUGHTS ARENT YOU. no I’m not. YOU COULD NEVER COMMIT AND FOLLOW THROUGH WITH ANYTHING IN LIFE. THATS WHY YOURE A GOOD FOR NOTHING LOSER. WHY ARE YOU GOING ON THAT DATE TONIGHT WHATS THE FUCKIN POINT OTHER THAN TO BE TALKED OUT OF IT. i don’t know. leave me the fuck alone man.

I go out to eat with my dad and our Ukrainian buddy Al for lunch at Beef o Bradys one last time. I lay low and keep my normal “I have a future” vibe. I call my best friend from the military Richard one last time.. without of course tipping him off to my grand exit. I have a heart to heart with my son on facetime. In fact it reminded me of the time we wanted to go mini golfing. We drove our bikes 10 minutes to find the mini golf completely demolished by Las Vegas-based Allegiant Travel Co. Theyre building a $600 million Sunseeker Resort. I’ll remember that for tonight. Anyways I go to Walmart to get a cheap haircut (since I gave my life savings away in an envelope). Fuckin Walmart charged me $24. What a joke. My mind: WHAT THE FUCK YOU NEED A HAIRCUT ANYWAY. DONT BE A PUSSY.

It’s 6pm and I start to get ready for my date. I jam out to something lighter Leaves Eyes “my destiny”. I shave, pluck my pubic hairs and pop a Sildenafil Citrate. I take an Uber to Dean’s South of the Border downtown punta Gorda. Ashley’s already sitting there at a round table. Boy am I fuckin nervous. Mind: “WHAT DO YOU GOT TO BE NERVOUS ABOUT YOU FUCKIN PUSSY. BECAUSE YOU’RE ABOUT TO BACK OUT ARENT YOU.” Ashley’s drinking a rum and coke. I sit down next to her all coy and tell the waitress “diet coke pls”. Ashley says why aren’t you drinking? Youre an alcoholic or something. I tell her yea alcohol and drug problem. She immediately recoils at the word drug. Then she says one drink ain’t going to hurt you. I tell her with my history it’s definitely a gateway to other things. If you were castaway like Tom Hanks on a desert island and there was a tiki bar, wine bar, a cocaine waterfall, a fentanyl salad bar, a treasure chest full of meth, a Wilson volleyball full of dilaudids and Percocets, would you just have one drink? Her jaw drops then says we should order something to eat. She orders the chicken & guacamole fajitas “we’ll share”. After eating and talking for 40 minutes we make out while a local cover band is playing. We get the check and I leave a $100 tip. Ashley thinks she’s got a keeper but little does she know I don’t care about throwing away my life savings. We hold hands and walk to the Tiki Bar. She asks again “c’mon just have one.” I’m kinda getting irritated at this point and blurted out “I can’t. I need to be on point and sober when I do what I have to do tonight”. She curiously asks “what is it you have to do”. I whisper in her ear the words KILL MYSELF. She says “your serious aren’t you”. Then gets up and heads for the parking lot. LOL what a cunt

So it’s 9pm and I’m walking over the bridge thinking to myself never again. When I off myself it has to be guaranteed. Never jumping in water again. After I get to the other side of the bridge I see the $600 million Resort they’re building. Under construction. Splat I’m thinking. I maze up all the ways to the rooftop. It’s dark as hell. I creep up to the edge, close my eyes, and just fall forward……………… I bounce into construction safety netting, stuck like an ant in a spider’s web. WTF. Now they’re going to know I’m suicidal and I’m going to end up in a psych ward for ten days. That means June 9th. 11 days from now, a Friday, is the day I kill myself. Til then I’ll be busy because I got a lot of shit to do now.