A Note

Part One of Two

"To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Seán William Mcloughin. I'm 26 today. I've dealt with depression for as long as I can remember. My life wasn't great, but I had Mark. He is my sunshine in the morning, the coffee in my mug, my fire place when it was cold, my umbrella when it would rain, and my moon when it was dark.

Mark, I want you to know this isn't because of you. You did everything you could, and I love you. But i cant do this anymore. I hate myself. I hate my eyes, my laugh, the way I eat, the way I don't eat, the way I cut, the way I feel nothing, the way I feel everything, the way I drink, the way I cry, the way I could sit here for hours and list things. I'm hopeless. I'm worthless. And there's only one way out.

Please don't feel bad about it or blame yourself. There's nothing you could have done that you already haven't. This is just my last birthday present, from me, to myself. I hope I don't fuck this up too.

I hope you can forgive me, Markimoo.

Love,
Your Jackaboy"

I sigh as I place the note on my desk. If he doesn't find it, the police will.

I finish my bottle of whiskey. I guess its a good thing the bridge is only a short walk from here.

Goodbye, house.