Everytime I attempt I just feel empty. Before each attempt I cry and sob my heart out, but when I know that I still just can’t die, I can’t tolerate the pain of gasping and gagging for air, I just feel utterly hopeless. My last hope, my last wish, was to just breathe my last breath, and I can’t even do that. I can’t describe this feeling, the feeling of my utter failure. It’s this emptiness, this hopelessness. After I unhook the noose from the doorknob and return it to my drawer, I just stare at the ceiling on my bed, and wallow in the midnight darkness in my room. Everything feels silent, like I’m actually dead. I just feel empty.