open casket

Waking up this morning and I'm staring at the useless shit in my room. I'm wondering what will happen to it all when I die. Will my personal belongings be rifled through and hastily boxed up and collected for the landfill?
M called me "selfish." I remember telling mom about Kurt Cobain's death. Suicide.
"People who kill themselves are the most selfish of people," she said.
I would love to put 2 and 2 together but I don't have the balls. The story of my fucking life: I never have the courage to do what needs to be done.
I'm surprised my nextdoor neighbor hasn't killed himself. It seems to pain him to simply walk from his car to his doorstep. Hunched over and grimacing...making strange quiet noises.
I see some of these poor souls walking down the street alone (Am I one of those people? I'm afraid so, afraid so).
I see them getting on the bus.
I see them in my reflection as I brush my teeth.
I'm afraid if I shot myself I would deprive mom of an open casket funeral. I'm sure she would want that. You know, for one final "goodbye."
Hanging seems needlessly tortuous.
But carbon monoxide poisoning has a ring of heaven to it. Find the abandoned parking lot of an empty and desolate factory building, attach a hose from the exhaust pipe to the front window, seal off, listen to some Joy Division and sign off.
But no no no. I don't have the goddamned courage. I don't have the heart to deliver such a crushing blow to family and friends. I only wish I could live for myself.
I feel like a pinata. Such a vulnerable container. I'm not hanging here for myself. No, my presence is for the blindfolded beings carrying sticks for weapons. Take your best shot. The only reason I hang before thee is to be broken. Broken open. Sliced open. The guts will come raining as the beings jump in celebration.
"Yay! We've destroyed it!"
Please destroy me.

mc