This is possibly the most disturbing tweet I’ve ever seen, and as a result it’s going below the jump.
Adios folks. Suicide note is here: https://t.co/zmoBtwk034 Good luck y'all
— Kate von Roeder (@ItsDamiya) October 1, 2014
I probably ought not to have, but I did read the note, which began thusly:
TL;DR Goodbye, I’m killing myself.
There follows a long version, from which I excerpt two paragraphs, one near the beginning, the other near the end:
This is a post that’s been a long time coming. 19 years of depression, give or take. It’s been long and brutal and full of a lot of tears and angst and it’s finally coming to a close. 10 days ago I purchased a shotgun and today, after the required California waiting period, I picked up that shotgun. A few of you have seen me offer up countdowns and references to October 1st at around noon; that was my nod towards this outcome.
Those of you who might want to suggest that a longer waiting period would have helped here are, um, not helping.
I want to tie this off with an apology to those of you who I’ve inflicted myself on over the years. Whether it’s reading the shit I spew onto Twitter or suffering my vortex of negativity as a colleague, I’ve been an albatross around the neck of a lot of people I respect and enjoy. To those who tried to befriend me and whose friendships I abandoned and allowed to wither and die, I’m also sorry. I wish I knew how to be a friend, but I just wasn’t wired that way.
Most of us, I suspect, have screwy wiring; the workarounds aren’t always obvious.
When I read something like this, I want to pound on my desk and scream: “Wasn’t there another way?” Then somewhere in the wind I hear: “If there had been another way, don’t you think I’d have tried it?”
This is how you miss someone you’ve never even met. And I don’t even want to know what kind of ghoul actually favorites something like that.