Depression is funny in that it seems though you at times want to kill yourself, you don't want to do it surreptitiously. You want it to be known to "The World", apparently the same "cold, cruel world" that led you to your fateful action, to know that you've "bid fare thee well" to it's rough and indifferent countenance for good".My recent fantasy "self-knock-off" would include a heavy dose of world-wide pity as one of the unfortunate victims of the current swine flu pandemic.
That's right, I want to catch swine flu and die from it.
Rather than the pathetic downing of the rest of my Colchicine pills followed by a good amount of choice Cabernet (the drug is purported to act like arsenic in overdose situations, and there is no antidote) which would likely be painful and cause all manner of bodily fluids to be eschewed onto my floor strewn about my corpse (not a pleasant site for the paramedics who finally show up), I thought I'd just suck the cock of some young Mexican teenaged hustler.
I'd accomplish a couple goals then. I'd get my last "fling" (after some 6 years since I'd tasted Gary's fine specimen) and I'd, hopefully, contract the deadly swine flu.
After I'm gone though, I'd be remembered lovingly as an innocent victim of a global tragedy.
What a way to go!