The Suicide Note

First of all, it has nothing to do with any of you. I was happy with you, Claire, right to the end. I loved my job and everybody in it. I had wonderful friends who stimulated me intellectually and creatively. I do not think I ever had a sad day in my life. Also, I was not terminally ill or anything. I was not trying to spare anybody any suffering. Neither was I trying to cause any.

It is all me. Since I was a little girl, I was obsessed with death. I drew pictures of things not moving anymore: birds, cats, bugs, people. I also drew pictures of death personified, but that did not interest me as much as the event of ceasing to exist. I do not have religion, so I do not believe in an afterlife. I believe in a quietus which is the end of all activity. That is it.

Ever since I was fifteen, I had obsessive thoughts about suicide. I would read all about it wherever I could. It seemed so brave to me that somebody could decide to cut their life short, even if it was in despair. I imagined myself doing it a hundred different ways in a thousand different situation. When I loved somebody, I imagined us taking our lives together.

As an adult, I did put my fantasies aside for a while, working on my career and relationships, forgetting the dreams of childhood, as a lot of us do. However, on the eve of my 32nd birthday, I found myself reminded of my passions of old. I became devoured by them. Since that day, two weeks ago, there was not a waking minute when I would not fantasize about taking my own life.

I have a sawed off shotgun by my side. It should efficiently eviscerate my brain and prove much more effective than a handgun, whose bullets are known to leave fifty per cent of their victims maimed but not killed.

Perhaps it is some strange mental disorder that I am suffering from. Maybe science would benefit from learning its source, or maybe nobody would be interested. Either way, I have made my decision not to leave the brain behind.

This is the final passage and I would like to leave you with words of wisdom, but sadly, I have none. I have learned that nobody can tell you anything smart until you are ready to hear it. So, goodbye, all of you. I hope not to see anything or anyone ever again.

With love,

Martha

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