12 Possible Exits

12 possible exists include
beginning the New Year with pack of cigarettes and smoking them one after the other until your lungs
send you a resignation letter

Block phone numbers, Instagram accounts, arteries, doorways, highways, bus routes, veins, airpassages; block everything you can find
that will let itself to be jammed with cotton and love letters and goodbyes

Send a text and know there is never going to be a response
Imagine the text floating in limbo, somewhere out there in the ether
Nebulous
and unread

Show up only to say "I am leaving"

Leave without announcing your departure, but allow the door to be open a crack
just so the cold can get in
just so there is some sign of you ever having been there
at all

Have a heart attack

Say it backwards three times in a mirror

Make seven phone calls to the same number, and at the last one, whisper, "Goodbye" into the voicemail, knowing
all voicemails go unheard in 2018

Stuff your mouth full of paper so you cannot speak.

Shapeshift into a forest fire and burn down your own house so you cannot stay.

Go to bed. Cry until your whole body is out of water. Stay there until you are dead.

Open the door, step over the threshold, close the door behind you; One, two, three.