My Suicide Note. If this works, see you on the flip side.

Goodbye, From AnonKun (I have replaced my real name with AnonKun whenever it appears)
I am very aware that many readers of this note may be surprised upon discovering it that I committed suicide. Please know that this was not a spur of the moment decision. This is not a decision I made lightly, or one that was imposed on me by people, society, or circumstance. This is a painful decision I made after years of on and off suffering with no logical conclusion or end in sight.
To address what is likely the most immediate question, I will explain why I chose to take such drastic action. Whether or not you, my reader, may be aware of it, I have been severely depressed on and off for a few years now. This period of time has proven to be too much for me, and the majority of my former self/personality has died off at this point.
Even when I am not depressed, I am not the person I used to be. And this should be expected, as we all grow and change, molding the current incarnation of ourselves in response to past experiences and forms of the self. But I fear I have taken a turn for the worse. And now that I have struck down the road I currently travel, I cannot go back, I cannot reclaim my former traits which made me worth the resources I expend. If you will, compare me to a car travelling down the interstate. For whatever reason, the vehicle decides to take an exit. At the end of the exit there is a road that continues on in another direction, but there is no U-Turn. Sure that car can continue, but it will never again feel the speed of the interstate, never reach the original destination, for the car cannot go backwards, or it will crash into another car venturing down the exit. I have really been dead for a long time already, what I have done today serves as more of a wake-up call than anything else. What appears before you (not my actual corpse, I refer to a few hours ago when I was still alive) is merely a corpse in terms of personality. The maggots are now encroaching as I type this, and I have nearly finished decomposing.
I have only been able to keep up a semblance of my former state and mannerisms in order to fool most everyone into thinking there was nothing wrong. In essence, I stayed aloof in order to make sure that when I did spiral into depressive episodes and legitimately withdraw socially, nobody would notice a difference or a personality change. I have largely been impersonal in the majority of my interaction for the exact same reasons. If people were too get too close, they might discover what is actually going on in my head. Perhaps the former statement elicits confusion, for at first glance it does not, and should not, seem rational. After all, wouldn’t I want someone to notice? Wouldn’t I want to escape this state of dullness and melancholy?
For the sake of argument, let’s presume someone not extremely close to me, say, an acquaintance or friend at school, were to discover my predicament. What then? What possible scenarios could lead towards a beneficial outcome? Allow me to extrapolate a bit here. Regardless of whether or not the permutations of this scenario in my head are accurate, this is what I was and have been thinking, thus you, dear reader, at least have an idea of my mental state.
Suppose the friend were to try to help me with my problems and talk about it. I highly doubt said friend could give any solid advice which I have not already considered. I feel as though I know what I have to do to escape this mental state, yet for some reason I am incapable of doing so. In fact, wondering why I know what I have to do but cannot muster the resolve to do it has kept me up many nights. Thus, the problem lies within me. Talking it out with a friend, by nature, is intended to be cathartic instead of actually doing anything. If depression is a chemical imbalance, talking to a friend will not magically create enough of the proper neurotransmitters to cure it instantly. So, if one does not act on a friend’s advice, the only remaining purpose is to “feel better”; yet this effect wears off after time, thus the effort is futile.
Let us take the scenario one step further and assume the friend tells the counselor or an arbitrary authority figure, and counseling/psychotherapy is mandated as a result. The issue at hand is the exact same as talking about depression with a friend, this time, the listener just happens to have a college degree. Sure, the advice derived may be more valid because the listener is a trained professional, but it is still useless if not acted upon. As a side note, considering the absurdly low cases of correctly diagnosed clinical depression (there are an overwhelming number of false positives, perhaps I am even one although I have not been formally checked), my faith in America’s psychiatrists is tenuous.
But what if the psychiatrist were to take more aggressive measures and prescribe medication? The side effects of taking it would be awful. The listed side effects would be bearable, but the “dulled” effect that is inherent in anti-depressants would still be there. Besides, having an anti-depressant descriptions actually excludes one from many scholarships and other things of that nature. It sounds odd, but if one does enough digging, one may find some truth to the statement. If I were to take medicines, mentally, I would still not be myself. In all the listed scenarios, my personality still dies/has died/remains dead.
Now you understand why I isolate myself, regardless of the soundness of my reasoning. You still may ponder, however, why I chose to commit suicide in the face of the damage it will inflict on my family and friends. To my family, friends, and teachers; you have all helped me so much over the years. I cannot thank you enough. The English language does not encompass my gratitude. I am sorry I messed myself up. Truthfully, do not blame yourself. It was not your fault, you could not have prevented me from destroying myself. It was inevitable. Also keep in mind that nothing anyone has said, done, or implied was the specific cause of this, or even the straw that broke the camel’s back. Do not speculate or feel guilty over thoughts along the lines of, “Maybe if I had not (said/insert verb) (insert noun or statement) to AnonKun, he would not have killed himself…” This was my fault, and my fault alone. The old version of myself – the one that deserved to live – only existed thanks to all of your wisdom, a sort of intellectual and emotional melting pot of ideas. I genuinely thank everyone I have ever known for that. And really, nobody needs me. Everything that people once relied on me for is already taken care of by others, since I have not been motivated/not had enough energy and willpower to take care of my responsibilities (or anything, for that matter) in ages.
And I know some of you may think, “If you were really sorry and grateful, you would not kill yourself and willingly shift your pain onto others.” For this, I honestly do not have an answer. Maybe I am just in so much pain that I am incapable of thinking straight. Maybe you’re right, and I really am a selfish ungrateful shit. Or maybe I am just dull, apathetic, selfish, and ungrateful. I will leave this one to your speculation, but I suspect the real answer is some derivation of all three.
Due to the depression which I have previously elaborated on, I have not been able to sleep for more than 6 hours in months. Most nights, I do not sleep at all. I am mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. I cannot do this anymore, and by this, I mean anything.

See you, space cowboys.

…bang.

~ AnonKun