– Feeling distress, especially through sympathy with someone else’s misfortune.
– A sudden loud noise.
I’d love to tell you that my heart and soul went into writing the note left on my bedside table but the truth is its very hard to write a suicide note without writing an autobiography. I wanted to keep it short and sweet much like my life.
Before you blow your brains out in your mothers basement you spend days, weeks, months? Contemplating whether or not you’ll blow your brains out in your mothers basement despite her telling you not to kill yourself in her house. It will affect the resale value. Personally I think murder and suicide houses are on the up and up considering everyone fascination with the strange and unusual.
You envision your funeral. How many people will be in attendance to celebrate your life and what would you say to them all if you could be there. You can’t. Your brains and skull fragments are scattered along the wall behind your bed. You don’t have to clean up the mess. You can’t.
At three A.M when I put my stepfathers twelve gauge shotgun in my mouth the only thing I could think to say to everyone I love residing in my house was ‘Sorry about the bang.’ As I enter eternal slumber I didn’t want to wake my loved ones. I wanted everyone to get a good nights rest before finding my lifeless body in my childhood bedroom.
I wasn’t filled with misery and despair. I suppose leading up to the hole in my head I did feel hopeless. I felt hopeless but also happy. I felt relieved for the first time in a very long time.
Have you ever woken from a nightmare, a bad dream and tried to fall back asleep as soon as possible to continue the dream or relive the vivid terror once more because it was more entertaining than anything you’ve ever seen in your mundane and melancholy life?
I didn’t want my life to be repetition. I wasn’t ready for the quick onset of reality and what it held for me but listen to me complaining to you, a total stranger. I suppose if more people had listened as you are I may not be laying in a pool of my own blood. They say once your heart stops beating you’ll stop bleeding. I must have had a strong heart because after I blew my brains out of the back of my head my blood continued to soak through my twin size mattress.
You might think I’m selfish or a coward for leaving this world so quickly and you may be right. The truth is I have no idea what life could have had in store for me and now we’ll never know, but I was bored. I think that may be why my skull is in pieces. Boredom. I wasn’t bored as in I had nothing to do but rather I’d done everything there was to do and I didn’t want to do it again.
They say a fatal gunshot to the head is painless but I have to tell you that they’re wrong. It’s painless in the sense that you don’t feel anything physical but for one moment you feel every single painful emotion a human being can feel.
I am dead. I am dead as a door nail and once again I’d like to tell you that I’m sorry about the bang.