This is it. You are finally going to end it all. It was an arduous struggle fighting through it all but in the end apathy got the best of you and now that the consequences of your indifference has finally caught up. Living alone lost its lustre long ago when you were still hopeful for things you dreamt to be and ought to do. Fast forward a decade later into the present you tiptoe atop a stool in the dark, a coiled noose in hand, held taut by the ceiling fixture you so expertly tied it around. The door to your apartment is held ajar, the occasionally breeze rocking it gently with squeaks that have already driven you to the closest manifestation of aural <span class="mu-r">HELL</span> brought to earth in the past months. But through it all and even at this final hour, a tinge of joy wells over you knowing that it's all over.

Atop your mildewed and sheetless torn bed, lies your final note to the living. It is addressed to:
(This will determine your canon relationships)
[] Your parents, who did their best
[] That one girl you had a crush on in middle school
[] Your childhood dog, that died eating rat poison
[] Your videogames and anons in the interwebs
[] Nobody in particular