I don’t want to commit suicide. I just want this all to be over with. I don’t want to have to feed myself, cloth myself, or need someone to touch me or hold me (forget about f****** me) or feel like s*** anymore as the days turn into weeks and months and years. I don’t want to end up a bent, old, blind, deaf, pathetic nobody whose body is found after three days because nobody gave a f*** about him his whole life. Yes, I have three hundred “friends” on Facebook, but they are not friends, they are “people that I know.” Goodbye, perhaps next life is better than this one of horror and degradation and indifference – but hopefully my meaningless life will end in sweet oblivion. F*** you, by the way.

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