It would be too easy—
leaving this world.
very careful planning.
So many ways,
several quick even.
She knew how she would take her leave—
one of a few carefully chosen options.
proper study (she wasn’t botching that shit),
final actions prior to.
She over-thought everything.
She had several plans.
She was highly prepared.
A few good people had taken that book of plans and shoved it somewhere up in the depths of the attic.
A Baltic Bear.
A Scandinavian Cannon.
A Queen of Ink.
A Wise Old Portuguese Meme.
A Cute German Guinea Pig.
Two Smartass Scots.
A Grumpy Dandelion.
The Last Saltbender.
They’d gathered dust,
frantically scribbled ink and pencil slowly fading.
The paper yellowed,
and those plans were all but forgotten for some time.
Until they weren’t.
A slap to the face,
a sudden flashback to the days of planning,
the snap realization that she was a parasite…
She crawled up to the attic.
She found them;
they called to her with whispers in the silence.
They hadn’t forgotten her.
‘Goddamn. Revisions. Now.’
long before the times of these friends thousands of kilometers away.
‘So. Many. Fucking. Revisions.’
She couldn’t be unprepared if she lost all logical thought.
This had to be done now.
She was floating away.
Those keeping her grounded were trying.
She was just too far gone—
At least should could say she tried.
She really was a fucking parasite.
A waste of life,
She would lift off completely,
far beyond the reach of any doctor or nurse.
She wasn’t far off—
she could feel it.
She was so fucking tired.
They would understand when she went to sleep…
They would be so much better off.