Facing that decision, the one that it is almost certain I will choose the one way but if I choose the other then there are no other decisions.
I've not been able to stop thinking about it for weeks, for months. And, while before the exit strategies were convoluted as a way to survive, now I can't help but focus on simpler means. And that frightens me.
It seems that the methods split into two categories. There are those which allow a second chance and those which don't. Pills and wrists allow time to reconsider, to call the emergency services and simply risk the humiliation of further failure, or potential brain damage. Nooses or heights are different. Once initiated there is no turning back, but who is to guess the eons of regret that I may suffer while I suffocate or drop toward unforgiving concrete? I suppose that cowardice is a life saver.
Thankfully (or regretfully) I live somewhere that forearms are not easily available; if I did, I am almost certain I would no longer be here to write these words, to wrestle with this problem, to experience this pain.