Why am I so scared of death? If death is the ultimate peace and is a route to freedom from pain, then why do I find it hard to go through it every time I want to. That night all those knives were within my reach, and yet I was unable to execute the thought of slashing my veins. Yes, though the thought was there the guts to go along with the action was not. Why do I love my worthless existence so much? Why am I still breathing, when all I can get are pain and failure? Why is this indomitable thirst to carry on with the life? Why do I still want to keep living and experiencing this humiliating existence? I have hit my personal low here, it seems, and only death can deliver me. I am waiting for it. I was also thinking if I should try to snatch a gun from a security guy; at least he will not hesitate to shoot me. Shooting I believe can be an easy way out, and because it will be difficult for me to take my own life otherwise, this will be the next best thing I can do. But even that is not easy, it seems.