Is suicide truly painless...?

The night I decided to commit suicide was just another Tuesday. I had called Taylor and his phone was off. I knew this meant one thing. He was with someone else. I had struggled with depression and sadness since my breakdown and the isolation of my self imposed hell...make that pretty hell was taking it's toll on me. I sat on my couch writing madly about any and everything that came to mind. It is amazing the thoughts that cross your mind when you are completely out of control. When you have not eaten in weeks and your only subsistence is provided through beer and Xanax. Seems that I had been on that plan for weeks. I had been in the home and my condition only worsened after my release. I couldn't escape the sadness, the heartache and misery of my very being was more than I could stand. So I concocted a plan. I would kill myself! I almost cheered at such a wonderful solution to this misery. I would consume all the mood altering medication I had and soon I would drift off and never be this miserable again. I was delighted as I rushed to my bedroom to get the drugs. Then off to the kitchen for an ice cold beer. It was the perfect plan. I would take the drugs in small handfuls as not to make myself puke. I took handful after handful until they were all gone. Then I perched myself on the couch for the countdown and of course to write my suicide note. It only consisted of one thing. What I wanted to be buried in...my brown Mongolian wool coat, my brown boots and my sunglasses. The drugs kicked in much sooner than I thought which was okay. I found myself in my room and decided that I needed my fountain pen I had left in the living room. As I passed the piano I remember falling and busting my ass. I guess the sock feet were not my most sensible choice. I got up and trudged on. The next thing I know it is three days later and I wake up freezing cold, on the floor in my bedroom curled around the leg of my bed naked. I remember the pain, it was hideous. I couldn't move from the pain and the stiffness of my ice cold body. I finally got the courage to pull myself up by my comforter and climbed under the covers. I was in such pain and all I could think of was how disappointed I was to still be alive. It was the most perfect plan and I was pissed! Then all of the sudden I look across the room and there on the bookshelf was my Angel. I had found it in the middle of my living room the day I returned home from the hospital. I couldn't understand what it was doing there all that time after Christmas, but it was there. So I took it into my bedroom and put it on the shelf while saying a little prayer for her to look after me. That moment I knew that I was destined for greater things. The shame of what I had done started to sink in and all I could do was cry. I thought of my children. Who might have found me. My parents that were still alive. Think about the loss of a child and think of how it would affect me if it were one of my children. I was overcome with such emotion that I was unable to stop the sobbing for quite some time. Eventually, I just stopped and thanked God for keeping me alive and apologized for what I had done. After a while I realized I had to use the bathroom and was unsure how I would get there since I was sure my leg was broken. I called Taylor and begged him to come take me to hospital, I told him my leg was broken and I couldn't walk. He just said he couldn't and I eventually hung up. I was still really fucked up so all my thoughts and movements were slow and painful. I finally decided that I would have to crawl on my hands and knees and that is what I did. After that I crawled back to my bed, but as I was pulling myself up I caught a glimpse of my kitchen. It was a scene of such mass destruction, I was in shock. All I could see was broken glass, dishes everywhere. Food...drugs all over my house. It was unnerving to say the least. Apparently, I didn't pass out as quickly as I had remembered. I tried to make my way through the kitchen to the refridgerator and stove, but without crushing broken glass into my hard wood floors there was no place I could step. I just remember surveying the scene and was horrified. I couldn't imagine what I had been thinking or for that matter what I had done. It was terrible...