Each morning I wake up and imagine the barrel of a revolver pressed against my head.
If I had a gun. I would pull that trigger.
I don’t have a gun. So I sit up and cry.
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It actually ain’t that great having a six inch stainless steel barrel pressed against your temple. I did that till the wee hours of the morning once – flick open the cylinder, eject the rounds, place one back in, give her a spin and pop her shut. I felt particularly brave that night, sitting on a bench inside a cemetery, so I pulled back the hammer with the weapon to my head and squeezed the trigger.
I guess it was my lucky night. I walked home and made me some brekkie consisting of scrambled eggs, French toast and a Bananaberry smoothie. The world works in mysterious ways, my friend. Take it easy out there.
I don’t own a real gun, but my brother had a CO2 gun made of plastic that looks almost like the real thing. Sometimes I fall asleep holding it against my head, and I’ll pull the trigger, but nothing happens… I wouldn’t do anything here, but a girl can dream…
I constantly imagine myself with a revolver in my mouth and all I have to do is be brave enough to pull the trigger. I don’t even own a gun. I want to go buy one and sit by the creek near my house. Listen to the water bubble past then lie down, put the gun in my mouth, and pull the trigger. It will all be over.