Excerpt: The Suicide Diaries

I wish I could be more like my coworkers. They all have their escapes. One has video games, another has art. Most have drugs, and use them copiously. I can’t tell who’s on what, anymore. A few have turned to nitrous while on the clock, to get through the day. One girl’s already passed out from it. She hit her head on the stone floor and got a concussion. The others, they’re fine so far; just dizzy, happy, and blue-lipped. It scares me a little.
But that’s their escape, and it’s not like mine’s any better. I still come up with different ways to kill myself, although I’m not sure I can actually go through with all of them.
A friend used a charcoal grill in her apartment. She set her cat on the fire escape and lit a match, and fell asleep. She never woke up. It sounds like such a peaceful, private way to go. And it’s inexpensive, too. If I can ever work up the nerve, it’s how I’d like to go. Quiet, peaceful, and cheap.
Maybe that can be my epitaph. Or in my obituary.