Hey ma. It's me. Just wanted to call and let you know that I'm sorry. Real sorry. I guess you'll know this soon enough, but I won't be able to take you to Big Lots tomorrow. You can call Rick, I guess--I know you don't like him to take you because he always rushes you, but…well. I won't be here tomorrow, so I guess it has to be Rick.
Anyways. Ma. I guess maybe you already know this. But…it's not working. I know you and Doctor Hedgerow are trying real hard. And in spite of what you might think, I've been trying real hard too. Remember the summer of '05? The winter of '09? All of '10? We got things working good a few times, didn't we? I held a job for a whole year…made a few new friends…even had a girlfriend for a little while. We never did figure out why I keep feeling this way, but the pills were helping me live a normal-ish life, and that was good enough, wasn't it? We both thought I was going to be okay, didn't we?
Only it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for me, at least, because no matter how hard we all worked at it, I kept feeling bad. The pills helped me look normal on the outside, but inside I kept feeling worse and worse, until finally I just felt like a hollow worthless sack of a man. You never knew, ma, but every night for the past two years--every single night!--I've cried myself to sleep. And every fucking day I wake up and my very first thought of every single day is about how much I hate myself.
I don't know what it is. I don't know if my brain chemicals are just all scrambled or if the pills have just lost their effect or…what. That's the worst part. I just can't figure out what changed. Even after all these years, I don't know what's wrong with me and I don't know how to get better. All the pills and all the therapy in the world obviously aren't cutting it. And now…now I'm right back where I started and…
I'm sorry, ma. So sorry for what I'm about to do. It just…feels like I can't get better. I can't take the pain anymore. I know you've dumped the last of our money into all those pills, and I feel like the biggest piece of poo in the world for doing this to you. But I'm done. It's been ten years now since this whole mess began and I just can't handle it anymore.
Anyways. Please don't be mad. That's not what I'm going for. Don't be sad either. I'm not doing this to upset anyone. I'm doing this for me. It's the only way that I know to free myself from all this. Please understand that. And…I'm real sorry about the mess. I know how much you hate it. If I were here, I'd clean it up. Maybe if you get this message in time you can send the police over ahead of you.
I love you, ma. Always will. Sorry it didn't work out. Please take care of Heidi for me.
