The inside thoughts of a Suicidal Sociopath

I'm done. So, so done. I really can't do this anymore. Everytime I wake up, I keep hearing something in my head say, "Hey, Sloth. Wake up, it's another day to contemplate killing someone!"

Really, it could be myself that i'm killing. I'm sick of this. It was so simple, the answer that I got. When I finally had it, I didn't want it. I didn't want it enough, and it became worthless.

"Keep living, you'll see!"

he's told me it once before, so I've through 16 miserable years waiting and waiting and waiting. Nothing came. Nothing happened. By the sixteenth year I had already died.

On the inside, though. I'm too scared to pull a gun on myself, and as much as i deserve it, I don't want my last moments to be fear-wracked times, so an overdose on medicine is out of the question.

I think I'll just hang myself. It's practical, easy, simple, and best of all, I've heard on the news that I tie an excellent noose. What a way to go.

I suppose that, really, It'd take more preparation than that though. Let's start with a suicide note, or whatever.

Dear (friend? police officer? Relative?) person who has managed to find this note,

I have killed myself. You don't have to hold a fancy trial about it. Thanks to those who made my life that much more miserable, I appreciated it. It gave me the drive to end my life. I tied the knot thinking about you.

Funny, how life strings you along and suddenly drops you with you being on the recieving side of life's little lie.

Funny, how you try so hard to fail in the end. I tried hard to get people to like me. I tried being happy.

It didn't work. So I killed them. If, by any chance, you find this horrid and cruel, don't. Everyone wishes they could kill someone at least once in thier life. It's my release, if you will. Now, all that's left of me is a stool, a noose, and a crumpled up sheet of paper. Enjoy.

P.S.- Dear Police officers, please note that I'm doing this to ensure my own comfort. To provide the sleep that aids the
tiredness that cannot be healed with sleep.

I'm still not afraid of you.

Signed,

Me

Was that good enough? Vague enough? Defiant enough? Don't answer that. You look ridiculous when you think about things. You are one of the biggest wastes of space I've ever met. Why are you even continuing this? Just put the paper down and spare yourself.

Still here?

Still here, now?

Leave!

Can you possibly be any more selfish? I'm a dead serial killer. What if I come back from the dead to haunt you?

Still don't care, do you?

Stop thinking. You look ridiculous.

I heard a knock on my door just now. It's now or never. I have just tied the noose, and I'm thinking about you right now.

Bye.