This is just a Story.
This is My Suicide Letter.
I have been dealt My final Card.
They say Life wasn’t meant to be easy.
But why does it have to be so fucking hard?
I was Born in the Shit.
In My Teens I was still in the Shit.
My Twenties saw Me deep in the Shit.
My Thirties saw Me Swimming in a River of Shit.
In My Forties I stopped Swimming I just started to Float.
Now in My Fifties am I am being weighed down by a Shit
filled heavy Overcoat.
I am tired of feeling weighed down.
Getting sucked down into the Muck.
But at the same time I don’t give a damn.
I really couldn’t give a Fuck.
But I don’t want to go out that way.
I want to go on My terms.
Maybe I will fall into a Vat of hot Oil.
Or get Eaten Alive.
By Ten Thousand Blood sucking Worms.
When I think back to My Teenage Years.
Well I really try not to.
Cause bad Memories bring on the Tears.
I think about all of the Abuse that I went through.
Verbal Abuse Physical Abuse and Sexual Abuse.
The Verbal was being called a lot of nasty Names.
Pretty Boy Girly Boy and a lot of others that I wont mention.
Constantly being told that I was nothing but a piece of Shit.
But to My Tormentors it was just a Game.
They didn’t care how much the Name calling hurt.
But the Words went real deep.
That is when I first started to think about going on a
The Physical Abuse consisted of being pushed down a Dozen
Stairs A Toe Broken by a Mallet Spat on Having My Hair pulled
Punched Poked and Prodded and Dead Legs
I was given so many Dead Legs that I virtually had a permanent
I should of fought back but I am such a Fucking Wimp.
The Sexual Abuse was being tied to a Tree.
Having My Pants pulled down.
And then I was Urinated and Ejaculated upon.
Then I was forced to do some nasty Acts.
But I am telling You.
It was never Consesual
I was the innocent Victim
I committed no Crime.
So why am I hear writing this last Letter?
I didn’t do anything wrong.
But I carry around a lot of Mental Scars.
I try to forget the past but I cant
Why am I so weak?
Why cant I be strong?
My Pen is writing these Words.
Letter by letter they fill the Page.
But as the Words form a Sentence and then a Paragraph
I am filled with a silent Rage.
I should have said a gentle Rage.
Because I am Timid I wouldn’t hurt a Fly.
But when I think of all the Crap I went through.
I only have one question.
Why was I so mistreated?
Why was I treated like a Dog?
No.A Dog would of been treated better.
That is one of the reasons why I am writing this Letter.
People say that you shouldn’t live in the past.
But that is where your memories take you.
You don’t know the future.
So your Brain goes in a backwards direction.
And dredges up things that are best forgotten.
And I remember why My Life is so Fucking Rotten
But enough of the Bad thoughts.
Lets talk about Death.
I think about it all of the time.
Every Second that I am Alive.
I wish that I was Dead.
The dark thoughts have been with Me for Years.
And are constantly fed.
From an early age Alcohol was My only Friend.
I couldn’t understand was I wasn’t more popular.
It was like I had an ugly Birthmark all over My Face.
So I Drank and Drank to go to a happier place.
I tried to be friendly.
But I was always pushed aside like a piece of Garbage.
I tried to keep a Smile on My Face.
But it was only a thin Veneer.
That is when I started to think
Lets end it all right here.
But I was weak and Spineless
A piece of Shit would be tougher then Me.
I know that My Pretty Boy Face.
Didn’t do Me any favours.
I was always Bruised Bloodied and Sore.
So at Fourteen I started to think.
Why am I even Alive anymore?
Over the Years People have told Me to Fight back.
But you are who you are.
You cant suddenly be a different Person.
You know a Leopard cant change its Spots.
And I have been good at connecting the dots.
I have never been a good connector.
I always end up by Myself.
I am like an old can of Baked Beans.
Picked up then put back on the shelf.
But enough of all the talking.
It is now time for action.
So I go to the Kitchen and open the Cutlery Drawer.
And a Carving Knife holds a Fatal attraction.
But before I put the Knife through its paces.
I close My Eyes.
And I say goodbye to my Family and Friends
I shouldn’t say Friends
Because I haven’t really got any.
They are all to busy living their Lives
With their Wives or Girlfriends.
They don’t need or want to hang with Me.
But I understand because I am bad company.
I look out of the Kitchen Window.
And the Rain is pouring down.
Black Clouds fill the Sky.
A Black Cloud has been with Me My whole Life.
And a Black Cloud will be with Me when I Die.
I grab hold of the Knife.
And I stand naked in front of the Mirror.
And I proceed to open up My face.
Right down to the Bone.
Good I hate My fucking Face.
It is good to see it gone.
I just stand there watching My Blood flow away.
And after about Five Minutes I start to wobble
The last thing I remember
Is Myself laying on the Floor.
FUCK OFF PEOPLE GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY.
My Life is finally over.
I have nothing else to say.
Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.