this was written yesterday.

To whoever sees this,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being here, that you have to read this, that you’ll have to deal with the incoherency of my words
because you found this first, that you have to spend money on a wood box for my body, for funerals, which will wilt in a few days and
soak the soil, eventually reaching me as I’m sure you’d hoped. For this, and everything, I am sorry. I wish I could have been better than
what I was, I hope that you’ll find this and realize that it wasn’t your fault. When I made this decision, I knew what I was doing. For
once, I knew what I was doing. So don’t worry. It’s okay. Know that I went out without a sound, I wasn’t afraid. I’m not afraid to be hurt
anymore, because I can’t hurt me anymore. I cleared my search history, so you can’t go looking for my final thoughts – sorry. You can’t
go looking for my inquiries on just how many Tylenols it takes to disappear, the saved tab on the national suicide hotline. Don’t worry,
because I’m better now. The pain is gone, and with it: me. It seems like one can’t exist without the other. Maybe that means I was
nothing more than that: the pain, the darkness, the illness; whatever you chose to call it, it’s gone. It’s finally gone. My therapist told me
to make a list of things to look forward to, so that I won’t end up in the psych ward again, so that I’ll have reminders that I have things in
my life to look to. So, here’s my list:
1. Tomorrow
Depressing, huh, that that was all I had in the 100-page journal that was bought for me last Christmas so that I could write out my
thoughts in a cathartic manner. Thanks for that again. That was the only thing I could think of to write in the journal for my list of
“Things to Look Forward To.” Tomorrow was never a promise, for me or for anyone, and I feel that you can’t look to anything else
without looking to the concept of tomorrow first. When you feel like leaving the world on a daily basis, tomorrow seems so very far
away, and in reality, we never reach it. So tomorrow gave me hope – that if I could just make it through today, tomorrow would be
better. And tomorrow never really comes, so there was always something to look forward to. The concept of time is beautiful really, and
even the language that time entails is a wondrous cycle. Yesterday, today, tomorrow – they will always be the past, the present, and the
future – these are all guaranteed. But I could not make a deal with time, to let me stay ‘til tomorrow, so I am leaving today, and I wrote
this letter for you yesterday, hoping that you’d find it today, and let me stay until tomorrow.
But, if you are reading this, and I’m not reading it next to you, then I suppose that the letter didn’t work. It wasn’t discovered today,
and I cannot stay to see tomorrow with you. I cannot stay to see the sun rise up above our roof and shine in the ceiling windows, nor can
I stay to see the sequined pillows become disco lights under the glimmer of the moon through the skylight.
Goodnight, my dears, I will miss you.
Sincerely,
Me

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