I wrote this as a cautionary tale to myself. I was stuck in a pattern of thinking that it could be possible for my taking my own life to maximize wellbeing for myself and those around me. It ought to be clear to most of us most of the time that this could never be the case but the depressed brain can convince itself of some crazy notions. Here I've used upsetting imagery to dissuade myself of suicidal notions. Enjoy. Suicide does not maximize wellbeing. The gun smokes and your body drops to the floor. Your skull is in pieces, blood and brain matter cover the wall behind where you were standing. The bullet is in the wall and the dogs are barking. Your family is awake, the sound of your life ending has roused them from pleasant dreams. They don't realize it but they are about to shatter, never to be made whole again. Your dad knows you have been feeling sad and the revolver isn't in the night stand. He runs down to your bedroom and sees the pool of blood expanding into the carpet around you. He is too shocked to scream as he stares into your dilated eyes. He hears your older brother and younger sister running toward the room. Just before they get there, he slams the door shut and leans against it. Your sister pounds on the door asking to be let in. Your brother knows what happened. He takes your sister into the living room and turns on the TV. He tells her there was an accident and she needs to stay on the couch, turning up the TV volume. Your brother knocks softly on your bedroom door. Your father lets him in. They sit next to each other on the floor. Your brother calls 911 and calmly explains what happened. The police and coroner are on their way. Your brother watches your father crawl over to your body. He will never forget the way your father lays in your blood and cradles you the way he did as a child. Your body convulses as his sobs move through you. Your brother simply sits and lets the image of your father covered in your blood sear into his memory. Spotting your open notebook in his periphery, he gets up and hides it from your father. Sirens approach and your sister starts to cry. Your brother takes her to her room and reads her a story to keep her distracted. Your father hasn't loosened his arms from around your body as the police enter the house. Two officers make their way through the house until they find your room. The officers tell your father to back away from you but he doesn't move. Your body is growing cold and your piss and shit are soaking into your father's pants. His sobs become more desperate as an officer begins to separate him from your body while speaking softly that you’re gone and he needs to let you go.