Those were the words my mom yelled at me after my first suicide attempt. Of all the shitty times in my life, the past few weeks had been the worst, and I finally decided to do it. I wrote a poem about it. I lit the fire and laid to rest, curled into a corner, settled in for the long nap. I wanted to go in peace, played my favourite tunes. Volume to the max, as the smoke diffused. As i slowly let go, my fingers to my toes, the music faded out, and my heart sank below. I did everything right, what could go wrong? I closed my eyes to the lyrics of my favourite song. As the fumes died, i woke to harsh reprimand. i knew that what had gone, was my first chance. "What's wrong with you?" "What game are you trying to play?" Those were the wrong words, the ones that made me turn away. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm planning to wrap my things up before I go.