I have never written a
suicide note before so probably I'll get straight to the point. My
name is Alan Ridley and I was born in Brookfield, Wisconsin. Since I
was just a little kid I was always taught not to believe in Boogeyman,
Vampires, Ghosts, Zombies and other shit like that, and for some
moments I started to doubt their existence, that is until night
settled. I always heard them scratching on the outside of my window,
I saw their shadows drafting on my ceiling. The only thing that kept
them away was the little nightlight my grandpa gave me to keep my
nightmares away. It was rather a symbol than a powerful light
projector. “Nightmares” that's what they always called them: my
sister, my grandma, my mom, my psychologist; yes, she even got me a
fucking shrink, but I'll tell you about him later.
One day my mom couldn't take anymore of my schizophrenic whining, so, she took me to the Church, told the priest I was having, and I quote, “Bad Dreams and insomnia”. Guess what he told me.... “have faith in the Power of God” or “follow the Path of The Lord”. Obviously he didn't realize what fucked up form of abnormal darkness was pursuing me.
I'm not saying I had no friends but, by the time I was 10, all of them used to stare at me with that empty gaze that I still cannot forget. I still had one friend, Katie Archibald, my first and only love. I described that feeling as love because her curly brunette hair and blue eyes were the only things that made me forget about the things coming with the shadows of the night. I loved her from the depth of my heart, never got to tell her that. We knew everything about each other, and the most stressful thing that projected on her happiness was the relationship with her father. That drunk bastard always used to come home wasted from a local bar and beat Katie and her mom till his consciousness told him to stop, it was always late due to his drunkenness and anger issues. Few people knew about that, personally I saw the roots of those issues every day. There was nothing I could have done, I was a God damn antibiotic-filled vegetable, with paranoid schizophrenia on the record. “Madam, your son has hallucinogen delusions, believing that some sort of alien creatures are in pursuit of hurting and possibly killing him”. I hated that guy more than my backstabbing family sometimes. I heard he had some accusations of child molestation on his record, still can't believe he had a medical license.
By the time me and Katie were 17, her drunk dad came home drunk again, but this time he just flipped. He locked Katie and his wife in their bedroom and sat the house on fire. Double homicide would have been written on Jeremy Archibald's file if he hadn't put a bullet into his skull from his Smith and Wesson 686 half an hour later.
Since then I am alone with my darkest fears. My mom tried to put me in a mental asylum, she said it would make me feel much better...no...they would have gotten me in that place of total exposure and helplessness, good thing I ran away.
I am 24 and for already two months I have been living in Katie's house. It's not too big, perfect to keep the darkness away. The only weapon against them is light, every freaking light bulb is on from dusk till dawn. I also have a 7000 W light projector pointed towards the yard, setting a barrier in front of the house. Nevertheless, I feel my time is running out. I don't know if the hanging rope that I tie around my neck is the best way out of this, but I'm sure as hell that they ain't going to get me alive. That's why i'm writing this note, to whoever reads it I must say: keep the light on.
-Fuck, the light just flickered.....
One day my mom couldn't take anymore of my schizophrenic whining, so, she took me to the Church, told the priest I was having, and I quote, “Bad Dreams and insomnia”. Guess what he told me.... “have faith in the Power of God” or “follow the Path of The Lord”. Obviously he didn't realize what fucked up form of abnormal darkness was pursuing me.
I'm not saying I had no friends but, by the time I was 10, all of them used to stare at me with that empty gaze that I still cannot forget. I still had one friend, Katie Archibald, my first and only love. I described that feeling as love because her curly brunette hair and blue eyes were the only things that made me forget about the things coming with the shadows of the night. I loved her from the depth of my heart, never got to tell her that. We knew everything about each other, and the most stressful thing that projected on her happiness was the relationship with her father. That drunk bastard always used to come home wasted from a local bar and beat Katie and her mom till his consciousness told him to stop, it was always late due to his drunkenness and anger issues. Few people knew about that, personally I saw the roots of those issues every day. There was nothing I could have done, I was a God damn antibiotic-filled vegetable, with paranoid schizophrenia on the record. “Madam, your son has hallucinogen delusions, believing that some sort of alien creatures are in pursuit of hurting and possibly killing him”. I hated that guy more than my backstabbing family sometimes. I heard he had some accusations of child molestation on his record, still can't believe he had a medical license.
By the time me and Katie were 17, her drunk dad came home drunk again, but this time he just flipped. He locked Katie and his wife in their bedroom and sat the house on fire. Double homicide would have been written on Jeremy Archibald's file if he hadn't put a bullet into his skull from his Smith and Wesson 686 half an hour later.
Since then I am alone with my darkest fears. My mom tried to put me in a mental asylum, she said it would make me feel much better...no...they would have gotten me in that place of total exposure and helplessness, good thing I ran away.
I am 24 and for already two months I have been living in Katie's house. It's not too big, perfect to keep the darkness away. The only weapon against them is light, every freaking light bulb is on from dusk till dawn. I also have a 7000 W light projector pointed towards the yard, setting a barrier in front of the house. Nevertheless, I feel my time is running out. I don't know if the hanging rope that I tie around my neck is the best way out of this, but I'm sure as hell that they ain't going to get me alive. That's why i'm writing this note, to whoever reads it I must say: keep the light on.
-Fuck, the light just flickered.....
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