That's it, I'm done. I can't take it anymore. I can't. I've tried and tried; done everything in my power and I'm just done. I can think of only one solution and that is to end it. I'm in too much pain. I've tried to reach out for help, but no one hears me. Or if they do, they refuse to do anything about it. Here's looking at you Liam, my supposed boyfriend. Maybe they are so blinded by their own pain they don't see mine. It doesn't matter anyway; I've made my decision. I cannot go on living. Friday is the day. I have it all planned out. Pretty easy when you've secretly been planning it for years. I already took the time off work. I'm calling it a mental health day, but it will really be my last day. I'm doing all my favorite things. Going out for brunch and eating waffles and drinking mimosas. Then off to my favorite bookstore to browse and read a bit. A walk in the park to play with some doggos then maybe a movie, depends on what's playing. No movie then it's off to wander my favorite shops downtown because I like to look. Dinner at my favorite Japanese steakhouse so I can have sushi and steak at the same time. A little bit of sake to get me nice and drunk then it's home to do the deed. I have enough leftover Xanax and Valium to mix with the alcohol. It should do the trick.
Liam, you will be gone on a work trip so I know no one will know what I've done. When they finally find my body on Monday because I don't show up for work, people will wonder. Why did I do it? She had a perfect life, an amazing boyfriend and job, why would she want to kill herself? It's all about the things that you don't know. I'll explain it to you the best way I know how. Try to make you understand and hopefully give you some solace that I've made my peace and gone out on my own terms.
Oh, I'm not sick. I don't have a rare incurable disease or cancer or something like that. Don't go down that road. I'm perfectly healthy from a medical standpoint, physically speaking. I have diagnosed major depression. There is no history of mental health problems in my family so to hear of it. That came as quite a shock to me. I've been managing it since I was 15, but I'm tired. So very tired of fighting every day for people to understand me, to get me. 25 years of struggling with nary a reprieve. I never felt like I fit here. In this world, in this time. I've always been out of step with those and the world around me. They won't let me forget it either. People would bully and make fun of me when I was down and to them, there seemed to be no reason. I thought if I stayed quiet and squeezed myself into the box's society placed on me, I'd find some semblance of happy. Well not happy, I guess the more accurate term would be satisfaction or contentment. Something I could live with anyway. So, I tried. I pursued a career that I actually liked in journalism and now I work for an amazing entertainment magazine. I went to therapy. Multiple therapists in fact, if I felt like we didn't click. I even tried mood stabilizers and other pills to get a handle on the depression but they only made it worse so I stopped. I found what many would consider the perfect boyfriend. Handsome, funny, well off, the perfect amount of affectionate and needy, a great lover. But none of it helped. I still had that sadness underneath. Fake it till you make it, Katrina. That's what I always told myself. Well, no amount of faking allowed me to make it. That's what I'm telling you now.
Many of you may think there were no signs, so how could you have helped. I was good at faking it, how could you have known? I tried to ask for help, but this persona I created, it was too difficult to break through, to get the support I needed from you. I told you, Liam after you proposed. I didn't want to accept because nothing was working and I didn't want to make you a widow. I told you I needed something else, but I didn't know what else. I'd tried everything already. I'd been to over 25 therapists asking them to help me and I was getting nowhere. I know you were upset I told you no, but I wanted you to understand what you were really getting into. What went on behind closed doors. If you could handle it, could handle me on my worst days when the thought of getting out of bed to even go to the bathroom seems a daunting task. I'd been able to hide those parts from you because you traveled so much, but I felt guilty. I loved you and wanted you to understand all of me before we were to wed. I hope you understand that now. I'm not blaming you, Liam. I'd never blame you. I'm not blaming anybody so don't you dare put that on yourselves. If anyone is to blame it's me. Sometimes people just can't be helped and I've reached that point. Do I feel guilty for all the extra pain this is going to be put on you because I'm gone? Yes, but my suffering is immeasurable. You may get over the fact I died. I won't get better. I know with absolute certainty that things will never get better for me and that is why I have to go. To make it stop. I need it to stop and soon it will. I'm sorry. Please forgive me.