She felt like running away. In fact she wanted to run far, far away to a place where no one could find her. Like a hotel. A hotel in the middle of nowhere in a country that was far removed from the one she was currently trying to make a living in.
She thought of the singers and other famous people who had committed suicide in their hotel rooms. Would anyone care if she did the same thing? She suspected so. Especially the hotel staff who would have to clean up the blood after she’d finished slitting her wrists. She wouldn’t do the whole drug thing. Wrists were messy but she had no access to anything other than vitamins and she didn’t think an overdose of vitamin C would do much apart from give her the runs.
Killing yourself was so much trouble. Why couldn’t it be easy? Everything in life was difficult and this was just another thing to add to the list.