The transparent brown container of prescription medication lies next to me on the black comforter draped over my bed. Little, white, round pills are spilled across my mattress, some even on the hard wood floor. Most of these pills are transporting their drugs into my blood stream making me more and more paralyzed by the minute. I must’ve taken about fifteen of them. I feel my toes go numb first. My hands are still working. I look around my room, family photos, certificates, diplomas, things that I worked on my entire life, the life that I was about to drown in painkillers. My eye catches a picture of my mother on her 40th birthday. She looks so happy, ironic enough I start to cry. I can’t think about her reaction when she sees me unresponsive, dead. I cry harder, I feel like I’m about to throw up.

Thoughts are running through my mind, my legs go numb now and I feel closer to death every second that passes. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. I always felt that there was no way a situation could be bad enough to make you want to end your life. All of these emotions just started building up and I didn’t know what to do, I felt like this was the only option available but now I might be wrong. My cell phone is on my dresser, it’s only a couple of inches away from my reach but my muscles and my bones hurt and I have no energy to grab the phone to dial the last number I would ever dial again. I feel the drugs crawl through my veins and I can feel the numbness slowly spread up my body. I’m starting to worry that I’ll be here for hours, suffering and dying a slow, painful death.

I twist my torso to reach for the square, black phone that sits on my dresser. My hand touches it but if feels like I’m touching air. My fingers are starting to feel as if they are frozen. I drag it towards me and touch the keypad. I start dialing the numbers I need, my fingers sliding over the touch screen. I have to start over numerous times; I keep striking the wrong buttons. I finally get the order right. I hold the phone in my hand, contemplating whether or not to press call. My heart is slowing down; I can feel my heartbeat in my ear. Thu-Thump, thu-thump. Over and over again, becoming slower and slower. The phone is slipping from my grip and I pull it close to me. I’m starting to perspire and shake and my head throbs.
I start thinking of all of the possibilities that can occur. Either he answers and is bothered that I’m calling him as I die, or he doesn’t answer and it goes to voicemail and I leave a message for him. But who wants to have a dead chick on their voicemail? I’m losing time; I can feel this monster crawling up my skin, into my neck. I’m straining to keep my eyes open. My finger has a mind of its own, it hits the call button and I can hear it ringing, my stomach hurts. I hold the object closer to my ear, at first I only hear fuzzy sounds that I can’t manage to make out but then I hear a voice.
“Hello?” I get chills up and down my spine; it feels good just to hear his voice. I realize that I’m seconds away from being unconscious. I can feel my body stiffen and I know it’ll all be over soon. I don’t even think, I just spit the words out.
“I love you,” I manage to slip the words out of my mouth. I’ve been waiting two years to say those three simple words. I can’t hear anything else, my heart stops and I’m dead. I feel a huge relief, my body feels weightless. It feels like I’m levitating and I soon find myself standing over my own body. The phone is still in my hand, I haven’t hung up yet. I feel light as a feather, buoyant, as if I could float on air. I am no longer paralyzed nor depressed nor… numb.