Suicide Letter

I told you not to say anything, he wrote furiously, arms scratching, words cutting as deep on the paper as the hurt in his heart. So i’m not trying to be spiteful, maybe it is coming out that way, maybe it looks that way, but I want you to know, and I actually do hope this hurts you, maybe it won't, considering what you’ve done. I do hope this hurts you the way what you did hurt me. His writing did not look anything like the usual neat scrawl. It was a scribble of lines. It did not read like the usual lucid poetry. Somebody would figure it out. Somebody would translate it. Decipher it. He could not. He was seeing pain and betrayal. His head hurt. He smelled emptiness in the air, his eyes burned, brimming with tears. I told you not to say anything, you are my brother. There exists, or so i thought, a bond between us. A bond where i can expect to trust you. I was not sure i could. But i put faith in you. And you have shown me i was right. It hurts. There was an emptiness swelling in his center, the waves of nothing crashing into the walls of his stomach. It hurt. Every pore in his skin trembled with pain. It hurts. A lot. I do not think I can come home, i do not think i can do this anymore. Why do I always have to be the mature one. I do not think I can do it. And honestly, there are other reasons, but this was the match that lit the fire. When they find my body mangled or blown up, or a hole in my head, or poison in my stomach, they will think it was self-harm, but I want you to know, i really hope you do know, that it wasn’t because of something I put in my stomach or something I put through my head, it was because of the stake you drove through my heart. Am I being overdramatic? Maybe. Is it true? Yeah. His hands trembled. His feet shook, the metal chair rattling as they did. As a brother, there is an unspoken bond that connects us. The other one, I can trust him to my dying breath. I tell him something, he will take it to his grave. He is a better man than either of us. So yeah, there’s the trust thing. But then to hurt her like that? There is no excuse. I care so much for her. But that aside, maybe I'll come back to it later, I’m sorry this is not up to par with my usual eloquence, it just hurts, I can not write this properly. I can not think properly, the voices are very loud today. The tears burn most of all today. There is no excuse. You are not a child anymore, you have a conception of how the world works, the lack of respect you have shown. The way you went about it, it breaks my heart. And this was what broke me. I just want you to know, when they find the lifeless lump of my remains, I want you to know that it was you.