Suicide Note

Mommy, Daddy--

Teacher, Friend--

This is my last letter,

This is the end.

Opaque clouds are swirling violently in the vast Heavens like

Whirlpools of murky water at the stormy coast,

And thunder growls angrily outside—

A premonition of my inevitable suicide.

Society never affected me.

Mainstream religion whipped me at all angles.

Yet hollow words and shallow connotations

Are but a gentle breeze against my skin—

I do not care.

I never did.

I never will.

And now my apathy, the one thing which has kept me strong,

Has proved to be my ultimate destruction.

Without preference, thought, emotion,

I am an empty canvas of aged cloth,

No longer waiting to be painted beautiful.

For in all the time which has passed,

I have come to the conclusion that I will never be complete

And I am perfectly fine with that.

But it is difficult to live as I do.

Without preference, thought, emotion,

I go through the cycles of mortality

With a smile plastered on my face

And an aching hole in my heart.

And I used to dream of a better tomorrow,

But tomorrow never came.

And now here I am alone in my room,

The rope in my hands is as rough as I am.

The noose, it has been lurking in the shadows of my closet

For two years as of today,

And it greets me like an old best friend—

Surreal, shy, seducing.

The course coils, entwined around my neck so very tenderly,

Bruise and rub me raw,

So that the pain beckons to me lucidity.

But my jugular is being crushed,

And inky black haze is creeping at the corners of my vision

Like the Bubonic Plague.

And it's almost peaceful.

Death by asphyxiation—

Who would have thought that my shameful fetish,

Previously hidden like a same-sex lover in the folds of my blankets,

Would be the only thing to solace me in my demise?