to my acquaintance
So this is it.
I finally did it. Finished it. Ended it all. Took that last step off the edge.
I killed myself.
It still doesn't feel final though. Even knowing. Even writing it down. I just don't feel dead yet. Maybe it's just the way I went. Maybe I should have grown a pair of balls and taken the gun like I intended to the first time and just blew my brains out.
I couldn't though. I couldn't do it. Not that I didn't think about it. I knew I wanted to die. I knew I craved the end of my existence. I knew I couldn't stand to be bound to this lame excuse for a life of mine for one minute longer.
That's why I took the pills. It's a quiet painless way out. Bottle or two of pills washed down with a bottle of vodka, and that's it. I took my medicine like a good boy and went to sleep.
And I woke up, surrounded by a faint glow, to be told that I could write one last letter.
Don't ask me why. Don't ask why me. I'm still asking 'why me?' I'm not special. Not even close. But here I am. Trying to think of profound last words and who the hell I'm even going to send this to when I'm done.
You're probably wondering why I decided on you. After all, it's not like we were friends or anything. Not even close. But, in a sense I sent my first suicide note to you as well. At least you were the one who got it.
I didn't leave a note this time. I didn't have anyone to leave it to. And I wish this bit of benevolence hadn't really been tossed at me. For crissake, I'm dead because I was so lonely. Why give me the chance to send one last letter to the living world.
You know, I still don't know why I just up and got the courage... wait... is that even the right word for something as cowardly as suicide? Whatever. I still don't know why I just up and did it that day. I wasn't any more depressed than usual. It wasn't one of those cliché grey, rainy, days where you moan and groan and 'oh I'm so depressed, that's it, I'm killing myself'. I just got up that morning and decided.
Today's as good a day as any to die.
So I did. And I hate like hell to burden you with it. We were just barely acquaintances all through high school after all. But you were the only one I could think of. You got the note the first time I tried to kill myself. And now you get this one. When I finally succeeded.
So. No profound last words. No dark secrets or deep reasons as to why. I'm dead. That's it. Not that you probably care that much, Freddy. You never really cared about anything. That much I do remember from high school. But I guess the best thing about this is that I got to get all this off my chest.
Maybe that was the reason.
d e a d l e t t e r s h o m e