Stuck

Ever get that feeling you're stuck on a teeter-totter and there is a fat kid on the other end that doesn't look like he going anywhere anytime soon? It is one of those situations where you can't really move any which way without completely screwing yourself over. On one side there is mad gunmen waiting to drill you as soon as you step off. On the other a tiger pit waiting to skewer you. Then all you can do is stare at the little fat fucker and wish you had a redo. And not like "Can I be where I was ten minutes ago;" no it is one of those full blown rewind the time so I can restart my life. You just want to take it ALL back. Not just some of the stuff, the whole shebang. Partridge in a pear tree, start at square one, so maybe, just maybe you can become a semblance of what you think you should be or actually become what you believe you should be.

What do you do? Check out? Is that the answer you've been looking for? "The easy way out," some old man would say, or "We never expected this," some not too close family member might say, probably as ignorantly as possible on some obscure news cast. How are you going to do it? Pills? Seems easy, but you know better. Most overdoses from pills are violent, messy, and most importantly, painful. You might not even be able to keep down a lethal enough dose. Then you just failed again. Plus most people picture checking out of this world with some gusto or at least peacefully, not covered in vomit. Oh, how about that bathtub and razor-blade combo that is dramatized on countless made for t.v. movies. Eh, but then your left with the fact that someone will find you. That's great. You give up, and someone has to see you in a pool of diluted but still dark blood water and naked as the day you were born. Great image for them to be haunted by every time they close their eyes.. Isn't it bad enough you want to end it since all you do is cause people pain... obviously inflicting more pain and hurt wouldn't really be the best way. Maybe it is. Just one last bit of pain for anyone who gives a fuck about you but that is it, you're out. You could jump off something tall, but then you run the risk of being the most unlucky mother fucker on the face of the planet and surviving as a paralyzed person who fucking hates themselves. Best case scenario, they bury you in a Hefty bag. Fuck that. Okay we're down to a bullet. You know where the gun and ammunition is, load it up, dress sharp, and click; it's all over. After a big mess and a closed casket, people can forget about you and that little fat fuck on the teeter-totter can rot in agonizing hell. Do you do it? No. You can't. Somewhere inside of you there is that unselfish tick that won't allow you to go through with it. Or maybe you're just too big of pussy to actually go through with anything in your life. Finalizing scares the fuck out of you. Maybe you're just an asshole that wants the last word in everything and you've become so torn over the idea that it would be the biggest last word ever, but then everyone will talk and you'll be dead. So your response time will be shot to shit. So what now hot-shot?

You hate yourself. You've just invested serious thought about ending it all. But you can't. Hansel and Gretel never bread-crumbed this shit out for you. Slide down the teeter-totter kick the kid in the face and never look back. Live. You choose to live. Purge out the demons you have lurking in your head. Get yourself together. And milk the world for everything you want. Because lets face it. We all die. And most don't get the chance to pick. So go live your life, besides you smoke two packs a day, you're well on your way and you didn't even think about it.