Quickville. Alabama. I mean, there’s not much to say about it. Ever since I was a young boy all I ever wanted to do was die. Life was always my day job, whereas death has always been my one true passion. It is just what I am good at, it’s what keeps me up at night, thinking. I always heard the clock ticking in the back of my mind. I sorta started enjoying the rhythm. It’s just ridiculous how discriminated against you are when all you want to do is to disappear completely. The social pressure to live and be happy is huge. Smile, fool!
If I had any energy left, I would start an organization for the rights of suicidal individuals, but I haven’t got any with the cancer diagnosis and all, you know. It’s not 100% sure that I will die. Maybe I’ll live. Even with terminal cancer, some say there’s hope. I want to make sure that they’re wrong. So I channel all my energy towards not making it.
To be perfectly honest, I was super relieved when I got this diagnosis. Don’t get me wrong, I love to google suicide methods. I am an encyclopedia of best practices on this topic, but I figured suicide is too assertive. My true love is passivity. That is who I am. Saying no is an answer still. Rejection is an attitude. I didn’t want to give life the pleasure of getting a reaction out of me, you fucking cunt!
It seems everything does happen for a reason and finally, my luck has turned around. The doctors gave me 4 months to live. All I know is that I’m going to smoke and drink heavily to help shorten this irritating period.
See that my grave is not kept clean.