Going out with notes in hand

Im going out,
With your notes in hand.
They get to me so much,
It is something i dont understand.
I kept all the letters,
The ones that you wrote.
I miss so much,
Getting a note.
I read them once more,
Before i grab my knife.
I remember our good times,
When i didnt think of ending my life.
But now that is over,
And I am done.
Im not going to live like this,
So I grab my gun.
Tear run down my face,
I let out my pain.
Put a blade to my wrist,
Slice threw a vein.
Thats how they find me,
Blood all around.
Im laying in my room,
Face first on the ground.
Your notes are in my hand,
The gun by my head.
Everything is stained,
A bold crimson red