Gun, Knife, or Rope?

Charcoal smeared around my eyes,
From heavy dropping tears,
Gone from white to blood shot red,
All because of my worst fears

I can see the food taking over me,
Suffocating me by my own skin,
All the fat that is surrounding me,
No way in hell will I be thin

Thoughts of purging start to wander,
In my very messed up head,
Its either to lose weight now,
Or soon to taste the sensation of lead.

Lead from a gun,
Blown between my eyes,
I'm sick of the nasty and cruel comments,
All because of my size

Or maybe a slash,
To the neck and the wrist,
For the so many times I couldnt explain,
My problems that are impossible to list.

But then again,
Maybe a good old rope,
Clear and very precise,
Hanging from the tallest tree,
So no longer will I have to cope

So which do I chose?
Fat or thin?
Gun, knife, or rope?

Who knows, not I,
Not now, not yet
All I know,
Is the purging works,
To be on my way,
To looking great,
But my gun,my knife,my rope shall stay

For the time, when I chose,
How to take my life,
When, where and also how,
Will I end my messed up strife?