The world stopped being important. The future became an impossible dream near my adulthood and that dream I’ve had inside me for so many years turned into this illusion that would fade each time an idea was born.

I wondered if I took the opportunities that showed in my life seriously would I have been satisfied with living well and not be sick.

I just waited for the end really and did nothing more than that.

 Dying was the only thing on my mind and I’ve dreamed of it these past fews days and thought of those terrible dreams for many hours now.

Writing the methods of how I’d pass in a journal  was more of my attempt to archive my memories if by chance some should encounter my home and find me.

Stolen story; please report.

 I was glad there was a way someone like me could die without suffering.

It was comforting to know I could and that there would not be a single person or animal who’d be affected by my selfish choice.

I lived long, but I dreamed it all away and grew old in a very sick body.

To believe in god was the only good I’ve done, but I won’t be apart of those who are in heaven.

In this life I ignored opportunities. I don’t deserve to live again.

I’m truly happy.

In the back of my mind I had this dream on the day I die, I was surrounded by people who love me.

No… dreams and thoughts are illusions.

They will not happen.

So I laughed at every thought of all the lives I never lived.

I wished some of those things I dreamed off happened for me too.

 My name is not important, but I will be known as No Life. 

— Now I execute myself.