Dear anyone who finds this suicide note,
I am writing this in my complete senses, and please punish all the people who are the cause of my premeditated suicide… no, murder.
I would like to attach culpability to a lot of people in my life, because of whom I have no more interest left to live.
Firstly, my so called friends, especially the ones who used my cash, car and clout to have a good time during college years, and have now mutated into these bizarre suit clad imbeciles sitting in an office all day!!… Especially you, Rahul now claim to be a ‘responsible’ guy, working in some stupid software company. Dude, how could you forget our pact of fun unlimited? You have abandoned me into ennui.
I next blame all my ex-girlfriends, and in particular, Maya. I thought she would keep me interested for much longer. Why can’t you ladies be a little more interesting? Why do you all behave so predictably? It is no longer challenging – you are so easy to befriend, get drunk and get into bed! Do you know how stressful it is to dump one girlfriend after another, not to mention the unfair reputation of being a Casanova! Where are the ones who make the chase interesting?
But the biggest causes of my depression are the two people who were supposed to be my providers and my protectors – my parents. Why couldn’t you be like Rahul’s parents? They made life so exciting for Rahul. Every time he did even something as worthless as getting good grades, his mom would gift him something really cool like a new jacket. And let me tell you, the all my platinum credit cards put together never gave me as much happiness. Why couldn’t you make me win them instead? I hate you, Rahul’s Mom!
I’ve had so much fun sneaking into Rahul’s terrace with him to grab a smoke – like a fun spy game! It’s not half as exciting when I smoke at home in my room. Are you guys so dumb that you can’t smell the ciggies when you come into my room? Why don’t I have to hide it from you guys…. Why have you become so boring? I hate you Rahul…. Have I already written that?
The sports car was such a letdown – the speakers weren’t as good, and I have never been able to check if the damn thing can ever touch 400 on the speedometer. Whoever invented traffic lights should be hanged!! And don’t even get me started on the i-phone, or the i-pod, or the i-pad... all useless pieces of confusing technology.
Might as well die a stud, rather than move on to drugs and end up looking like a bad Botox job! I would much rather end my life with my own free will – I’ve heard the feeling of dying is out of this world; can’t wait to see if heaven really has bombshell blonde angels with golden harps…
And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to mix the white pills with the vodka, before I down the red pills in Scotch. See you later, losers!
P.s. Please don’t change the clothes I am wearing now… the designer stuff is new and bought just for this occasion. I’d prefer to be photographed in an outfit of my choice! A pity the shoes have been spotted in a couple of nightspots before though. Well, you can’t have it all, I guess!
Also please make sure the Blackberry and the charger are in the pockets as I have left them… will need it to update my Facebook status once I reach heaven.
