It’s a sin to kill yourself. I should care, I was raised Catholic. Fuck it. My wife is upstairs sleeping. I’m just sitting on my couch with my two pug puppies. They’re also sleeping. They look so cute. I’m going to miss them. Why am I doing this again? I’ve got money, I have my wife, but do I have happiness? No I don’t. I’m a fucking Eunuch of a man. I cow tow to every decision. I am not myself, I am a compromised version of myself. I’m a fucking pussy.

I wanted to use a cool gun to do it. You know, something sexy like a Baretta or a Sig Sauer, but my aunt, the firearms instructor always told me you want a revolver, they don’t jam. So that’s what I got, a big fuck off Clint Eastwood revolver. I cock the hammer back, so I have to apply the lightest squeeze to set the trigger off. I’ve got it under my chin. I can feel it pressing into my throat. I’m crying now. Christ, I’ll wake her up. I turn up the volume on the TV. Letterman is reading the top 10, I pull the trigger…