Sometimes when I’m a bit down in the dumps, having a bad day, depresso espresso, and need a bit of cheering up, I go to a little fantasy of mine. To start this fantasy, I’ve basically just had the best day of my life, (this changes around a bit) sometimes I’ve had a big day on the drugs, sometimes I’ve just had an orgy with all the hot girls from my life that I could never get, sometimes I’ve just had a great day out with friends or family. But its irrelevant because that bit isn’t really the fantasy, the actual fantasy is this:

I come home from this already sensational day, open the door and walk in, call out your name but there’s no answer. No ‘retard’ or ‘fuckwit’ or ‘faggot’ shouted out in reply.

The house is dead silent.

So, inquisitively I look around knowing that you haven’t been at work or out anywhere. I go upstairs calling your name out thinking maybe you are asleep. Still no answer. So I knock on your door, and open it a fraction. Just enough to see your feet dangling mid-air. I take a second to process what has happened and then I open the door completely. And there you are, swinging gently in the breeze, suspended by nothing but the thick rope around around your neck. So I stand there for a few minutes, whilst the warm wash of dopamine covers my body. I really let myself take it all in. Your bulging eyes, your blue lips and face, and the complete stillness and silence which I have never experienced whilst being in your presence. Then slowly I move towards your hanging corpse, put my fingers to your wrist and check for a pulse. When I feel no movement I can’t hold back the tears of utter joy. They fill me with a hope and happiness I haven’t felt since being a young child on Christmas eve. I feel that now I am free of you I could do anything with my life. Maybe I’ll be an astronaut, maybe I’ll be a billionaire entrepreneur. Who knows, the point is, I’m finally living in a world where you do not exist.

That… that is my fantasy.