Fuck it, let’s do this,
Thought a young colt. Leaning against a wall in a small corner of Manehatten, enough pills and syringes to sustain a pharmacy for a week laid before him. Beside the pills laid a razor, stained with the young colt’s blood, and beside the razor, laid a small CD player and a pair of headphones. A CD by the colt’s favourite band, Blink-182, resided inside of it.The young colt glanced down at the razor, and frowned. Weak. Fucking weak. Cutting yourself is for little fillies who can’t handle their boyfriends breaking up with them. He glanced upon his wide variety of pills, and his frown quickly vanished. This is real. This is it. Escape. Escape all this crap. Just a few of any of these, and it’s all over. The young colt glanced up and pondered his thoughts. Thats the only problem, he thought. Which ones should I take? 30 sleeping pills would knock me out, but theres always the chance of me throwing them back up. I’m not putting up with that shit. If I inject it, there’s no chance I’ll throw that shit up, but it’s not the same. Why don’t I...yeah, yeah. I’ll mix the two. That’ll make sure. The colt smiled to himself, impressed with himself at his own idea. He quickly went to work, picking out the bringers of his demise. Upon finishing, he sat down, leaning against the wall again.
The young colt sat there for quite a while. He thought to himself, well, what’s stopping me? I don’t have anything else to do, there’s nobody for me to write a letter to. But what if some little filly is the one to find me? That’s...that’s not right. I can’t do that. I know...I’ll write whoever finds me a letter apologizing. It’s not much..but it’s better then nothing. The young colt ran off, searching for a pen and a piece of paper. Upon finding these two items, he quickly returned, and sat down in his usual position to begin writing.
“To whoever finds this....
No. What the fuck. What are you, 6? Try again.
“To whoever reads this first...
GAHH! It’s getting worse. Fuck it.
“Look, to whoever finds me, I’m really fucking sorry you had to see this. No, really, I am. It’s not right, but so are a lot of things. I”m just one of many. Not like anyone really gives a shit anyways. Anyway, I’m sorry.”
Well, that’s the best you’ll ever come up with. Let’s get this over with. The young colt stood up, moving quickly towards his already picked out supplies. He grabbed all of them in one trip, two syringes in his mouth, balancing three bottles of pills on his back. He sat down again, leaning his back against a wall. He took one of the bottles of pills, knocked off the top, and brought it to his lips. Well, you finally did it, he thought, and leaned his head back.
Three pills and one syringe later, the young colt still leaned against the wall. Holding the final syringe in one hoof, he held out his other hoof. Shaking, he thought to himself, One more...let’s go...cmon, don’t mess this up. He brought the syringe down slowly, making sure to hit the vein. He felt a slight prick, and quickly brought down the top of the syringe, pumping the drug into his system. He smiled, and for the first time in perhaps his life, was truly pleased with himself. You finally did it. Finally. He reached for his headphones, placing them over his two ears. He then grabbed the CD player, and just as Adam’s Song started to play, the young colt began to drift away.