Another suicide note!

Now, how to write a suicide note? As it is, I’m fed up of everything that’s come across my life. But I have no alternative, and this is necessary, to avoid any complications by the law.

I had a lot of expectations, I must say, when I first stepped foot into this college. I thought I would reap treasures. A top-notch job, a stupendous bike, a posh apartment, an amazing girl…I studied well. My first bouts of depression began when my first relationship with Rosy (name changed) hit the rocks. The global recession only added salt to my wounds. My plans…and dreams…all were foiled. I was introduced to the drug that many associated with peace and ecstasy. I felt like the bohemian, being able to smoke so freely. I didn’t know there was another side to this exciting feel of self-indulgence. Depression hit harder and faster when I came to my senses, and I had to pine for my next smoke. I’m not simply prone to depression. I’m depressed because I’m unemployed, and had to face an umpteen number of unsuccessful interviews. I’m depressed because my affairs have always been petty compared to my love for Rosy. I’m a chalked-out mess. This drug, which once felt like heaven, has brought only paranoia and contempt into my relationships.

Aaah…this has given ample time for my blood to create a red sea …my eyelids feel like weights, a similar experience when I am too high…

My Last Offering

Ria, I have finally decided.
31 years I have rotted in prison. Today’s the first time I smell the fresh air. Of ‘freedom’.
Health and wealth once existed in my life. Orphaned by birth, I worked hard and bought a farm. The farm grew big. My business reaped profit. Soon I had workers of my own. I erected a cozy house. I loaned six tractors mortgaging my farm. I wed a beautiful girl too, Ria. She was the first whom I called family. Life was heavenly. Until…
My world came crashing down. Ria was found dead in the kitchen. Raped and strangled. The butler named a worker. Needless to say, I went berserk. I took hold of my farm gun. I stormed out and found him. Before he could say a word, I pumped lead into him. Thrice. Each shot satisfying my burning revenge. But as he breathed his last, he pointed to the butler. He tried to flee, but I killed him too. I stood in the midst of the blood, a weak smile appearing on my grieving face.
I was arrested and convicted. For the murder of two innocent employees. With no sufficient proof they were in any way involved with the death of Ria, I was sentenced to Life imprisonment. Justice was bad those days. At first, I didn’t depress. Who else was there to live for, anyway?
The jail term was worse. Day and night, I was immersed in her. I refused to eat or did I read. I grew weak and was driven to insanity. I was sifted for rehabilitation. A few years of treatment and good conduct henceforth earned me enough sympathy to reduce my sentence.
And here I am. I find the new experience rather shocking. I sought change in me once I was freed. But the whole world has changed. A lot. Without me in it. Nothing has been more difficult than recognizing the place I once called home. It looks so different. My land had been confiscated. On my fields stand giant buildings. The sky isn’t blue, there isn’t an inch of greenery around. There’s no peace here. Only endless noise. Smoke blinds my eyes. I was orphaned before, I feel orphaned again, by the world. I was planning to start all over, but what is square one? No, I don’t belong here. Nor am I going back to prison. I want to live in my gleeful memories again. I had thought many a time of ending my chapter. Now the urge is simply throbbing. I apologize to all for the inconvenience caused by my carcass. I look at my only possession, my wedding ring, studded with a precious stone. So tempting, this taste of death…it is going to be my last meal…

January 1978
Jake Philips