It's right there, within reach.
I could simply grab it, use it, and be done. 
Would it be that easy?
To finish it, to just... be through?
Could it be that simple, to end it all?
I could do it. I could.
Just one simple motion of my wrist, a twitch of my finger, and it would be over.
No more of any of this.
That one, small tool could help me stop it all.
No more pain. No more suffering.
And I could be done.

The world has faded.
The cars outside are no longer there.
The wind outside has stopped howling.
Her voice has finally stopped screaming,
Not even leaving a whisper behind.
It is now only me, and me alone.
And my tool.
Its cold breath brushes over me,
A shiver runs across my spine,
And I think to myself,
I will do this.
It will be done.
I will be gone.
I will be no more.
It just takes one fluid motion of my wrist.

But I stop.
I... I couldn't do this.
This is just a phase, right?
I will get better.
I will get better,
I have to get better.
I am needed here,
For my family,
For my friends.

So, life sucks.
People are terrible,
That's just how humans are, right?
There isn't anything I can do about that.
That is why I won't be ending my life.
Not tonight, not ever.

The gun in front of me no longer looks inviting.
It looks terrifying.
Have I really allowed the world to bring me so low that I would consider ending my own life?
I pick it up, carefully, slowly,
And put it back into the box I found it in.
No one has to know of this.
I could be fine again.
I could be whole once more.
But... will I?