It will take 5 days before they find me. The stench of decomposing human flesh will lead them to my corpse. They will not need to break the door; I have never believed in locking up.
They shall find me sprawled on the bedroom floor, atop my favorite maroon, zebra-striped carpet ; a gory, stinky mess. A dried rivulet of blood will be the only memory of my last active deed on earth. A Nacet blade will be lying next to my right hand; the savior responsible for liberating me from the pain and nuisances of this earth. No, the bleeding shall not be the cause of my death; maybe partly; the codeine will.
Near the blade; they shall find my Nikon; still on; it’s always had such an awesome battery. On it will be pictures of my last remaining moments; close-ups of the stripes of crimson; those have always fascinated me.
In front of me will be my laptop; probably playing an episode of Chowder or Flapjack or Home Movies; all the toons I loved shall keep me company as I fade out; on repeat. Two burnt out blunts shall be on the bowl I use as an ashtray. Empty boxes of flavored milk will be strewn on the floor; I shall not allow myself to go out with a bitter taste on my mouth.