yeah

I am a bloated festering abomination to mankind.  I am a whipping boy for the pleasure of others.  I’ve heard it said that one who is serious about suicide will never telegraph their intentions.  Tis true, I suppose, after my mind’s lengthy discourse on the subject, my own secrecy remains intact.  Yet here I am.  A cry for HELP???  God forbid. I’ve had “help” before.  Lesser sires to bastard children attend me in my need.  Incompetent, insincere parasites.  To improve society, the cessation of my existence is of tantamount importance. The world should advance is most certainly better off without me.  The dregs of personality and all that is polite, I GIVE until I have nothing left.  And they take more and more and more and more. I am inside out.  Enveloping nothingness.  I shall no longer feel pain.  Grasping hands around me will clutch at smoke!