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I write this in panic that someone will arrive before I've finished the letter.
Before I embark on the deed.
In a hurry, time is of the essence. Really it is.
Forgive the spelling mistakes.
Forgive everything.
This is my appoligy.
I'm sorry, to all who read this. For whoever has to find me. I know it will be messy. It was
the most convenient way to do it. I didnt want to go and buy a handgun or find a buidling to leap from.
I'm sorry for leading a bitter single-serving life.
Purposeless is a word that seems to sum it up rather indignantly.
Alone, breathing every breath wishing it were my last.
Blindly led to beleive something would eventually open my eyes. Alas, fairlytale fantasies like Father Christmas. An "it'll all be ok" dimplomacy for those who don't have the heart to admit that this is as good as it gets.
It really is.
Read this and know it's all downhill from here.
You'll find another single cell and pretend you're in love, if you're lucky. Breed some more misery into the world. Have your money drunk-dry, and then die, probably cold and alone. Remorseful and bitter at the world. Because it never got better.
Futures built on empty promises.
I invested my life into the hands of false angels, never to be swept off the ground.
Choking on my own self-absorbed tears.
Pityful, pityful, pityful.
I'd rather end it with my own hands than a disease eating me away from the inside.
Slowly rotting my ever-incontent core.
I never thought this would happen.
Plan Z.
The last resort.
and again I'm sorry to whoever finds me.
Sorry to whoever has to clean up the mess.
Sorry to anyone who could possibly miss me.
To all I leave behind, I am sorry.
Know that I am happier as a nothing, than as an incontent something.
Ground zero.
Last will and testament.
Give all my stuff to a charity, none of it is worth much. Or burn it. Burn my memories, forget me. Feel the self pity welling up in the corners of my eyes.
Now I go, before I lose my nerve.
To all involved.
I'm sorry.
Before I embark on the deed.
In a hurry, time is of the essence. Really it is.
Forgive the spelling mistakes.
Forgive everything.
This is my appoligy.
I'm sorry, to all who read this. For whoever has to find me. I know it will be messy. It was
the most convenient way to do it. I didnt want to go and buy a handgun or find a buidling to leap from.
I'm sorry for leading a bitter single-serving life.
Purposeless is a word that seems to sum it up rather indignantly.
Alone, breathing every breath wishing it were my last.
Blindly led to beleive something would eventually open my eyes. Alas, fairlytale fantasies like Father Christmas. An "it'll all be ok" dimplomacy for those who don't have the heart to admit that this is as good as it gets.
It really is.
Read this and know it's all downhill from here.
You'll find another single cell and pretend you're in love, if you're lucky. Breed some more misery into the world. Have your money drunk-dry, and then die, probably cold and alone. Remorseful and bitter at the world. Because it never got better.
Futures built on empty promises.
I invested my life into the hands of false angels, never to be swept off the ground.
Choking on my own self-absorbed tears.
Pityful, pityful, pityful.
I'd rather end it with my own hands than a disease eating me away from the inside.
Slowly rotting my ever-incontent core.
I never thought this would happen.
Plan Z.
The last resort.
and again I'm sorry to whoever finds me.
Sorry to whoever has to clean up the mess.
Sorry to anyone who could possibly miss me.
To all I leave behind, I am sorry.
Know that I am happier as a nothing, than as an incontent something.
Ground zero.
Last will and testament.
Give all my stuff to a charity, none of it is worth much. Or burn it. Burn my memories, forget me. Feel the self pity welling up in the corners of my eyes.
Now I go, before I lose my nerve.
To all involved.
I'm sorry.
Didn't like that really.
I just read the words and never felt anything.
And in case it was an actual suicide note:
"u ok hun?"
I just read the words and never felt anything.
And in case it was an actual suicide note:
"u ok hun?"
Alright I suppose, bit cliche ridden. And I fail to beleive that the guy didn't have one person to write about besides himself.
Also, I couldn't read it all... got some blood on it.
Also, I couldn't read it all... got some blood on it.
I write this in panic that someone will arrive before I've finished the letter.
Before I embark on the deed.
In a hurry, time is of the essence. Really it is.
Forgive the spelling mistakes.
Forgive everything.
This is my appoligy.
I'm sorry, to all who read this. For whoever has to find me. I know it will be messy. It was
the most convenient way to do it. I didnt want to go and buy a handgun or find a buidling to leap from.
I'm sorry for leading a bitter single-serving life.
Purposeless is a word that seems to sum it up rather indignantly.
Alone, breathing every breath wishing it were my last.
Blindly led to beleive something would eventually open my eyes. Alas, fairlytale fantasies like Father Christmas. An "it'll all be ok" dimplomacy for those who don't have the heart to admit that this is as good as it gets.
It really is.
Read this and know it's all downhill from here.
You'll find another single cell and pretend you're in love, if you're lucky. Breed some more misery into the world. Have your money drunk-dry, and then die, probably cold and alone. Remorseful and bitter at the world. Because it never got better.
Futures built on empty promises.
I invested my life into the hands of false angels, never to be swept off the ground.
Choking on my own self-absorbed tears.
Pityful, pityful, pityful.
I'd rather end it with my own hands than a disease eating me away from the inside.
Slowly rotting my ever-incontent core.
I never thought this would happen.
Plan Z.
The last resort.
and again I'm sorry to whoever finds me.
Sorry to whoever has to clean up the mess.
Sorry to anyone who could possibly miss me.
To all I leave behind, I am sorry.
Know that I am happier as a nothing, than as an incontent something.
Ground zero.
Last will and testament.
Give all my stuff to a charity, none of it is worth much. Or burn it. Burn my memories, forget me. Feel the self pity welling up in the corners of my eyes.
Now I go, before I lose my nerve.
To all involved.
I'm sorry.
Before I embark on the deed.
In a hurry, time is of the essence. Really it is.
Forgive the spelling mistakes.
Forgive everything.
This is my appoligy.
I'm sorry, to all who read this. For whoever has to find me. I know it will be messy. It was
the most convenient way to do it. I didnt want to go and buy a handgun or find a buidling to leap from.
I'm sorry for leading a bitter single-serving life.
Purposeless is a word that seems to sum it up rather indignantly.
Alone, breathing every breath wishing it were my last.
Blindly led to beleive something would eventually open my eyes. Alas, fairlytale fantasies like Father Christmas. An "it'll all be ok" dimplomacy for those who don't have the heart to admit that this is as good as it gets.
It really is.
Read this and know it's all downhill from here.
You'll find another single cell and pretend you're in love, if you're lucky. Breed some more misery into the world. Have your money drunk-dry, and then die, probably cold and alone. Remorseful and bitter at the world. Because it never got better.
Futures built on empty promises.
I invested my life into the hands of false angels, never to be swept off the ground.
Choking on my own self-absorbed tears.
Pityful, pityful, pityful.
I'd rather end it with my own hands than a disease eating me away from the inside.
Slowly rotting my ever-incontent core.
I never thought this would happen.
Plan Z.
The last resort.
and again I'm sorry to whoever finds me.
Sorry to whoever has to clean up the mess.
Sorry to anyone who could possibly miss me.
To all I leave behind, I am sorry.
Know that I am happier as a nothing, than as an incontent something.
Ground zero.
Last will and testament.
Give all my stuff to a charity, none of it is worth much. Or burn it. Burn my memories, forget me. Feel the self pity welling up in the corners of my eyes.
Now I go, before I lose my nerve.
To all involved.
I'm sorry.