The suffocating oppression that comes from being locked in a dark room didn't bother him. How could it? He was no longer in this world. He was beyond the universe of slurred speech and stumbling steps. He was in a place he would never come back from. Getting his eyes to focus would be impossible, as he lay trapped in the arms of countless bottles of alcohol. He had ingested the contents of every glass bottle that shone at him invitingly, and he was now falling into infinity.
He had thought that all he needed was a nap...but then the full realization of what he had done made his head ache worse than the hangover he would never have, and he lumbered to the bathroom and locked the door.
The cold, hard tile sparkled comfortingly, as he collapsed in a jumble of stringy hair, unwashed clothing, and skinny limbs that stuck at odd angles. As he spiraled toward unconscousness, he didn't think of the dark whispers that would come at the explanation of how and where he died. All that passed through his dulled mind was the reminder of how very tired he was and the thought: "It was easy, so easy" that repeated in an endless loop as the darkness grew more complete.