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Panic
EPMD
23 Sep 2002
World peace is a nice work of pure fiction
Imagine being so depressed that life doesn't feel worth it anymore. A maniac is shooting people in Washington. People are blowing themselves into a million pieces on buses full of children in the Middle East. What kind of world is this? What kind of God would allow these atrocities to happen?
If this is sight, I'd rather be blind.
So you decide to take the final plunge. You take whatever prescriptions you have in the medicine cabinet and wash a hand full down with a bottle of beer. Imagine drawing yourself a bath and lying there... waiting. The note lies on the sink a few feet away. You close the shower curtain.
Fade to black
Your eyes close. You open them to find the note staring you right in the face. You jump back, but the hand covers your mouth with the note and slowly lowers you into the tepid water. You struggle as hard as you can but it's no use. Panic sets in as you find yourself completely underwater. Your head rubs against the bottom of the tub as the hand holds you down.
Alive
Success. You pull the plunger open with your outstretched fingers. The hand pulls the soggy suicide note from the slowly draining water. The voice asks, "I thought you wanted to die?" You do not respond. Shaking and cold you lay there. Your fingers still holding on to the open drain. The question echoes through every inch of the bathroom. "It's a pity it is too late to change your mind", the voice says as your heart stops beating. The pills take effect. Fade to black.
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