Two years ago this day, I wouldn't be alive. I'd watch my parents from my window exit through the driveway. I'd go trifling through the medicine cabinet. I'd find the bottle way in the back. The one screaming, jumping up and down, "pick me." I stare at the bottle. Nestled, waiting, hoping. I realized I hadn't said any goodbyes. I write out the paper and leave it naked out on the counter. I carefully drink the contents with the most ordinary of labels. I'm tired. I stumble down the hall towards my bed. The one place that has ever understood me. The only one that ever will. I tuck myself in. "Snug as a bug in a rug" I hear my father say. "Sleep tight sweetie" I hear my mother say. Oh God I feel so tired. I start to dream but I don't know what about.