I Just Called To Say Goodbye
Dear humanity,
The world is a cruel, cruel place. Don’t bother trying to make it because there’s always something there to bring you back down to the bottom of some eerie nightmare. Just give up. Give up your hopes of becoming a famous rock star. Give up your hopes of becoming a movie star. Give up your hopes of amounting to anything. Failure and rejection will be knocking on your door and you’ll eventually have to answer; you can’t just ignore it. I’m convinced that success and acceptance were stuck in traffic or got in a car accident on their way over to my house. I have no friends. So, why bother continuing with it? I can’t fit in. So, why bother continuing with it? I have no chances of reaching my dreams. So, screw it. Maybe I’ll become a whore. I don’t know. But better yet... Why not just leave? Why not exterminate and free myself of this hatred place? I know, I know, suicide equals eternal suffering. But, aren’t I already suffering? Haven’t the tables turned on me a long, long time ago? What? Are things going to get better? Is that a promise? I don’t think I’m capable of taking in all of this incurable misery and keeping my mouth shut for another seventy five years. My heart is a pit of eternal suffering. My mind is a cloud of eternal woe. I think this is my breaking point. Is there even a God? Do you even exist? Am I just throwing random begs and pleads into the open sky with only the moon and stars to listen to them? Well, I think my decision is clear. There is no such thing as blissful life. There is only sufferance.
Sincerely,
My own private suicide
The world is a cruel, cruel place. Don’t bother trying to make it because there’s always something there to bring you back down to the bottom of some eerie nightmare. Just give up. Give up your hopes of becoming a famous rock star. Give up your hopes of becoming a movie star. Give up your hopes of amounting to anything. Failure and rejection will be knocking on your door and you’ll eventually have to answer; you can’t just ignore it. I’m convinced that success and acceptance were stuck in traffic or got in a car accident on their way over to my house. I have no friends. So, why bother continuing with it? I can’t fit in. So, why bother continuing with it? I have no chances of reaching my dreams. So, screw it. Maybe I’ll become a whore. I don’t know. But better yet... Why not just leave? Why not exterminate and free myself of this hatred place? I know, I know, suicide equals eternal suffering. But, aren’t I already suffering? Haven’t the tables turned on me a long, long time ago? What? Are things going to get better? Is that a promise? I don’t think I’m capable of taking in all of this incurable misery and keeping my mouth shut for another seventy five years. My heart is a pit of eternal suffering. My mind is a cloud of eternal woe. I think this is my breaking point. Is there even a God? Do you even exist? Am I just throwing random begs and pleads into the open sky with only the moon and stars to listen to them? Well, I think my decision is clear. There is no such thing as blissful life. There is only sufferance.
Sincerely,
My own private suicide