Prodigy: A suicide note
Is it wrong to write fictional suicide notes for fun?
How did I get where I am? More to the point, how did I not get where I’m not? I had hope; I had promise. I was brilliant! God gifted brilliant! Before I could walk, I knew my reds from my yellows, my circles from my squares. Over, under, through…I had the fundamentals of reality down and my stone was a’ rollin’.
And then I hit the wall. There is a wall, you know. A wall our version of creation was never meant to climb. It’s there to protect us from things we needn’t know. Cold dark things, that, if we were to face them, we’d never sleep again. And warm fuzzy things. Things so sweet and dear that we would cuddle them, and tend to them, sacrificing ourselves to their needs, until we forgot to eat, even breathe. Beyond the wall is a madness we cannot imagine, for if we tried, our souls would stop our very blood from flowing, in an effort to save themselves.