The loud, obnoxious beeping of my alarm yanks me out of my fantasy filled dreams and back into the cold reality. I yawn and roll out of bed before I change my mind and decide to go back to the never ending bliss of my mind.

I stumble my way into the bathroom and take a shower like it is just another day, only it isn't. Today is very special, not that anyone will notice. After I return to my room, I open my closet and pick out my best looking clothes, the ones I have never worn before. I fix my tie to be perfect before combing my hair, another thing which I never do.

Now it’s time for the walk upstairs to breakfast. I can already smell my dad’s bitter coffee. It’s probably being sipped from his “World’s Greatest Dad” mug my sister got him last year. My mother’s hair dryer is screaming, trying to be kept in the background by my younger brother watching sports.

When I finally arrive in the kitchen, I open up the bread box, and start making myself some toast. I don’t even know how to make it so the toaster doesn't burn it. As I put the bread down, I glance over my shoulder. Dad’s head is buried in the local news section. I turn to see Mom putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

“Danny, how did your spelling test go?” I ask my brother who has just finished gobbling up the last of his sugary cereal.

“Good.” He responds after walking past me to put his bowl in the dishwasher.

I turn to my father. “Dad, have you heard when Marissa will come home for Independence Day?” He doesn't respond. I have to call him by his first name again. “Sam?”

“Hm?” He asks, still not peeking his head out of its paper cocoon.

“When’s Marissa coming home for-“

“She’s coming back for the fourth.”

I put on my best impression of a smile. “Thanks.”

Mom comes scurrying out of the bathroom. “Come on guys, we’re going to be late!” My family goes starts scrambling for the door. Quickly, I run to the edge of the stairs. I can smell that the toaster definitely burned my breakfast.

“Mom, Dad, I have something important to tell you!” I yell across the house.

Mom checks her watch, and then reaches for the doorknob. “I’m sorry honey, I’m late. You can tell me when we get back from work. Bye.” She slams the door, and I can hear the car pull out of the driveway.

“I’m going to kill myself.” I say. It’s the first time I've said it out loud. It’s real now. Before, it was just a cry for help, a message on a poster I hung in my room for my parents to see. Now it’s real.

I've had the noose all ready for a week now, hoping someone would come in my room and see it. Dad even ran by and called me up for dinner. My door was open, he must have seen it. Was it just that he didn't care?

I walk down to my room. I’m ready, I have no regrets. I breathe in my final gulps of air. They’re filled with the smoke from my burnt toast. I boot up the computer sitting on my desk. It has my note typed on it in plain text. I never named it. At the top it reads: DOCUMENT1.

I climb up on the chair, and fit the rope around my neck. I let my mind go blank, almost. Just one thought sticks in my head as I fall and feel the rope go taught; they didn't even say “I love you.”