English Project

Dear Life, and World, and Everything Left,

I am unsure of who will find this, so let me tell you a small bit about myself. I do not believe it is possible to encapsulate one's entire life in a note, but I must try. I am a 26 year old lawyer. My successful practice is located downtown in this city, slightly left of the intersection to 4th and 27th. It is a tall brown building with few windows, when I look out the one facing East, I can see the river valley, and to the West, I can see the downtown core, overflowing with buildings and factories. When you write notes like these, I believe you are supposed to get to the point quickly: but do I have one? I am dying by my own hand because I believe I have nothing left. All the others I know fail to see this. How can a successful lawyer want to die so badly? Apparently, those others do not know me very well. I have struggled with depression for the last ten years, but have kept it hidden masterfully. The small blue pills I took on my coffee breaks (few and far between) were not for the headaches I frequently claimed to get because of work related stress. They were for my [enter vocab] depression. Apparently I hid it well, but you were all too blind to see it. However, this is not a letter of blame, for I cannot blame anyone but myself. Too often in the world, people try to blame others for their own misfortune. My favorite author, Oscar Wilde, said it beautifully: "There is a luxury in self reproach. When we blame others, we feel that no one else has the right to blame us." Everyone has the right to blame me for this terrible act, yet I have no right to blame them.
However, we are back to the topic of why I wish to die. In my entire life, I have accomplished many things. Attending an Ivy League school at the age of 18, graduating with a 4.0 GPA, and coming from a happy family, amongst others. However, I feel unsatisfied, compared to my colleagues and friends. They are the ones with husbands or wives, and children. They are the ones that go home to their families after work, capable of feeling love, and affection. They exist outside of their jobs, they are confident souls that are not afraid to take risks. I am not them. I lack confidence on a large scale basis, and I feel incapable of love and affection. When I was a teenager, I had experience with such things. However, they failed each and every time, for because I could not love myself, I was incapable of loving another. This lack of affection has followed me everywhere I go. As I walk to work in the morning, I feel pangs of jealousy and despair every time I see a couple. They have succeeded, so why can't I? I can climb my way to the top of the ladder at the office, with the number one record in the city, and I am incapable of love. This is to be my downfall.
To those who attempted love with me, I am sorry. I am sorry for hurting you, for being incapable, for lowering your confidence and making you feel inferior. I am a grown man, yet I am crying writing this. The great philosopher David Hume once said that "[he] believed that no man ever threw away life while it was worth keeping." I am strongly in agreement with this statement. I am "throwing away" my life (do we really wish to call it that?) for it is really not worth keeping. I may be intelligent, I may hold records in my profession, however these things do not make me happy. I despise myself, and there is nothing that anyone, including myself, can do to change that. With this, I give my final farewell.