Whenever I paint the picture of myself ending it all, I do it as follows:
I light some candles and draw a bath. I feel the water to make sure it's warm. I put on Sophie B. Hawkins's "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover." I get into the tub and reminisce (not lewdly) about when Dylan held Kelly in his arms on the beach in that classic summer episode of 90210. Then I knock the toaster that had been leaning precariously on the edge of the tub into the water.
I'm so fucking down.
Oh, I really don't know how active I'll be this week. Sorry in advance.