Journal of a Schizophrenic (Entry #1)

Dear death,
I cannot shun the premonition that you'll be coming to my side soon. If it is so, please grant those that I care about a long life. Life, what a surreal thing. I've long come to the belief that it has no meaning., therefor no god, no Satan. I wish I believed in all that stuff, but somehow I believe you have a form, a physical existence somewhere. I know you've been watching me for a long time - waiting patiently. Waiting for my suicidal ideation to overpower. I want to win, but I now feel that I would win more in the peace of death. I could stay alive in the memories of those who know me, making them smile. The quality of life for me just isn't there anymore. No friends, a relationship on the rocks, debt. I wish I could look forward to the sun in the morning, but her warmth cannot thaw the ice encasing me. So long I've lived with this frozen paralysis, both emotionally and physically. My last suicide attempt haunts me. I'm so scared. Suicide is a right and I've decided self destruction would make me more courageous than cowardly, more right than wrong, more justified. I wish to preserve my dignity through suicide, even in the solitude of death. Solitude, I'm well-acquainted. If I could take back one thing in life it would be all those years spent in the basement as a child. Did the solitude within those cement walls make me develop the psychosis? Psychosis, it's painful every moment of every day. I don't want to live in pain anymore. So, dear death, take my breath away. Smother this flame of rage and allow me to smolder. Take me, take me now.

Hope to see you soon,
Daniel