Drunken writing part 1

The heart beats not once, but twice. The steady rhythm reminds me of a war drum. Bump...Bump... But while the heart races, the mind is slowing down. Slowly... Silence fills the once full void, until there is nothing left. Suffering. Pain. Ending it all, the gun calls to you. The drum picks up as you reach for it. Bumpbumpbumpbumpbump.