I have thought long and hard about what I would tell you in this last letter. I have spent many countless hours in deep contemplation trying to find the words to convey the severity of the situation I am now faced with. But even after all my struggling, I find only the anguish of defeat, and the sorrow of everlasting loneliness. For the words I feel I must speak to you I cannot. Because I know not what those words are. Therefore the effort is futile and meaningless in its purpose.
I cannot even begin to describe the dimensions of the black void that lies where my heart once was. And try as I might, I do not think I will recover this time.
Long ago I was a boy struggling to be a man. Now I’m a man struggling to remember what it was to be a boy. If you could only see my eyes, you would know all hope is gone. Because the only thing I have to live for now is this war, and this war only promises to bring me more pain and suffering.
There is only so much torture a tattered soul can endure alone, and I fear I am at my wits end. I can tell you that I am not afraid of death; as a matter of fact I welcome it into my embrace. Oh how I long to burn in the black acidic flames of my self inflicted demise. But please, weep for me not. For I am the malefactor of my own destiny, and the corrupter of my own wheel of fate. I chose the path I now walk, and walk it alone I must.
Know by the time you read these words I will be no more. Because at dawns first light my torment will cease, and my only hope as morning approaches, is that through my death you may find some peace……