I normally don't care enough to talk to people or share anything about myself. But some of you people on here are really, really nice and understanding. So you get to see me.
I'm 24 years old and male from Canada. If you want a name you can call me Nick. It's not my real name but I go by it more often than my real one. I'm about as average a person as it gets.
I have set a date. It's soon; early December. I set this date a few weeks ago. Been lurking on this site since then but I've been visiting it sporadically for about a year.
I'd like to share with you why I am here and why I am leaving. I guess this is my suicide note because I don't think I'll be leaving one when I jump from my 19-floor balcony.
I really shouldn't be killing myself. So many people would murder to be me. I have such a comfortable and cozy life. I have a steady income that lets me save hundreds of dollars a month after all my expenses. I have a wife and 2 cats that I support with this income. My family growing up was pretty average. No abuse or anything dramatic. No deaths in the family, or serious illnesses, or even financial trouble, in fact my family was very well off growing up. I'm a smart, confident and handsome young, white man in the peak of health and no anxiety issues. I work a cushy job where I can sit at a desk and write shit like this. God...me and my life are kind of perfect. My wife is beautiful and madly obsessed with me. She left her entire life to be with me. I don't love her. I never loved her. I barely even tolerate her presence. She has no idea of any of this.
I'm killing myself because after years of effort trying to get this point, I've realized that this is the best it ever gets; comfortable. Not happy, but comfortable. I'm surrounded by my wife's love, video games that are the height of art, inspiration from all this art that I can find. and I just don't fucking care anymore. I never really cared.
I don't care because it's not good enough. Ever since I grew up and realized that nothing in reality will ever be as good as my imagination was, nothing mattered anymore. My imaginary friend died in front of my face and I woke up to this hideous fucking planet. I fell in love with a girl that I thought was her reincarnation. When she broke my heart, I gave up on everything for good. That was 10 years ago. I still dream about that girl once a month. I never dream about anything else, including my wife.
I'm killing myself because I'm a spoiled brat. Bliss itself was handed to me on a silver platter. My joy intoxicated me to a level truly beyond reality. I'm addicted to that bliss, searching for a high that nobody but deluded children can ever have. I've spent the last decade searching every avenue I could find to achieve that same level of bliss without fooling myself into another false reality like video games, drugs or religion. I'm convinced now that happiness itself is a lie, that the only way to feel true bliss is to imagine it. And I refuse to ever be fooled again.
I've stuck around this far because I figured, why not, since I'm comfortable. But one day a few weeks ago, a tiny life annoyance just...broke me. I decided that was it, I'm sick of being distracted by bullshit pixels and emotions. The truth never leaves me. The universe is meaningless and humanity was a cosmic mistake. I refuse to take part in this grand folly any longer.
My one and only regret before I die is that I didn't spend time with more girls before settling for my wife. It would have been nice to maybe, just maybe, have a connection with someone else for a few seconds before I die. Oh well.
You people are nice. I'd like to talk to someone before I leave. Please feel free to talk to me in private about anything you want before I go. It's pretty impossible to alienate, offend or disgust me.
I think I'll post in this thread the night I do it. Just to say goodbye. You people deserve it more than almost anyone in my life.
I'm 24 years old and male from Canada. If you want a name you can call me Nick. It's not my real name but I go by it more often than my real one. I'm about as average a person as it gets.
I have set a date. It's soon; early December. I set this date a few weeks ago. Been lurking on this site since then but I've been visiting it sporadically for about a year.
I'd like to share with you why I am here and why I am leaving. I guess this is my suicide note because I don't think I'll be leaving one when I jump from my 19-floor balcony.
I really shouldn't be killing myself. So many people would murder to be me. I have such a comfortable and cozy life. I have a steady income that lets me save hundreds of dollars a month after all my expenses. I have a wife and 2 cats that I support with this income. My family growing up was pretty average. No abuse or anything dramatic. No deaths in the family, or serious illnesses, or even financial trouble, in fact my family was very well off growing up. I'm a smart, confident and handsome young, white man in the peak of health and no anxiety issues. I work a cushy job where I can sit at a desk and write shit like this. God...me and my life are kind of perfect. My wife is beautiful and madly obsessed with me. She left her entire life to be with me. I don't love her. I never loved her. I barely even tolerate her presence. She has no idea of any of this.
I'm killing myself because after years of effort trying to get this point, I've realized that this is the best it ever gets; comfortable. Not happy, but comfortable. I'm surrounded by my wife's love, video games that are the height of art, inspiration from all this art that I can find. and I just don't fucking care anymore. I never really cared.
I don't care because it's not good enough. Ever since I grew up and realized that nothing in reality will ever be as good as my imagination was, nothing mattered anymore. My imaginary friend died in front of my face and I woke up to this hideous fucking planet. I fell in love with a girl that I thought was her reincarnation. When she broke my heart, I gave up on everything for good. That was 10 years ago. I still dream about that girl once a month. I never dream about anything else, including my wife.
I'm killing myself because I'm a spoiled brat. Bliss itself was handed to me on a silver platter. My joy intoxicated me to a level truly beyond reality. I'm addicted to that bliss, searching for a high that nobody but deluded children can ever have. I've spent the last decade searching every avenue I could find to achieve that same level of bliss without fooling myself into another false reality like video games, drugs or religion. I'm convinced now that happiness itself is a lie, that the only way to feel true bliss is to imagine it. And I refuse to ever be fooled again.
I've stuck around this far because I figured, why not, since I'm comfortable. But one day a few weeks ago, a tiny life annoyance just...broke me. I decided that was it, I'm sick of being distracted by bullshit pixels and emotions. The truth never leaves me. The universe is meaningless and humanity was a cosmic mistake. I refuse to take part in this grand folly any longer.
My one and only regret before I die is that I didn't spend time with more girls before settling for my wife. It would have been nice to maybe, just maybe, have a connection with someone else for a few seconds before I die. Oh well.
You people are nice. I'd like to talk to someone before I leave. Please feel free to talk to me in private about anything you want before I go. It's pretty impossible to alienate, offend or disgust me.
I think I'll post in this thread the night I do it. Just to say goodbye. You people deserve it more than almost anyone in my life.
