Another Suicide Note
Another Suicide Note R. Freeman-Toole I. Prelude I took the pills, and then lay down on the bed with my laptop on my chest, to write this thing, hoping that during its composition I would fade away; that my fingers would slowly cease to trickle across the keys and I would be no more. I wrote: "Dear friends-- and yet it is false to say "Dear Friends", because, if I had any friends, I would not be doing this thing--the word "FRIENDS" is my whole problem, my insane, territorial excrescence--no, let it say, "Dear Acquaintances"--no, no, "To Whom it may concern." For all my friends have betrayed me, one by one, this one then that one after the other, they have fled from me; they all have decided I am not worth the hassle (small wonder), and have excluded me from their tiny universes, thus: "please delete me from your e-mail list", or "return to sender", or "no longer at this address", etc...