I was buoyed by a sudden rush of energy and excitement. The pills tumbled out of the bottle and down my throat.
I blocked out all thought and focused on swallowing the pills. As Steven Tyler sang about living a lie and wishing to die, I felt like Aerosmith was singing that song just for me. The radio in the kitchen blared one of my favorite songs, Amazing, by Aerosmith. I tried again, and again, but my subconscious seemed to disagree. My tongue had involuntarily blocked the pills from rushing out of the bottle, and I put it back down. I tilted the bottle up, but my subconscious made me stop.
Slowly, I brought the bottle to my mouth, my hands shaking as much from nerves as from the weakness and fatigue of lying in bed for two months. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Am I really going to do this, and if I do, what will happen? Where will I go? Will any part of me - my consciousness, my mind, spirit or soul - continue to exist? At the sink, I filled up a glass of water, and for what seemed like hours I stared at that bottle of pills, my thoughts racing. That should be enough, I thought as I headed for the kitchen. Minutes before, I’d gotten out of bed for the first time in days and walked into the bathroom where I’d grabbed a full bottle of sleeping pills.
