Glorious Madness

I won't be coming home tonight.

I'm not leaving you, or running away, or turning my back on us. I'm dying.

I've been dying on the inside for years; decomposing inwardly whilst remaining perfect from afar. I cannot stand it any longer: the outer shell is empty and cracked and now too must crumble.

This disease that plagues me, an unidentifiable hell, has beaten me. And though I promised you I would never shy away, that I would never give up, I am admitting defeat. I am allowing the all-consuming fear and self loathing to spread over me. I am succumbing to this glorious madness.

My mind has warped and all I see is twisted fiction. I despise it and am petrified of it, and have grown evermore paranoid. The world has turned on me and I have fought back, I battled with the last of the strength I had within me: but I have lost.

It was never my intention to pull you into these depths with me. I longed to leave you, to make the jump myself, but you insisted. I hate myself for the sadness I have caused you. I despise the pity I see in your eyes.

I make the remainder of the journey alone. I wait patiently for the gateway, the gateway I have resisted against for so long. I will not tread through with fear or anger, but with a strength I could never show in life.

Do not mourn for a body and a mind that have failed me. I have not been dragged from this world too soon, I have chosen to leave. I regret everything and nothing, and that is the way it should be.

You were the one tiny light that shone through the thick dark mist. Your love lifted me through barriers I could not have broken through alone. You had given me life, a life I otherwise would've left long ago. I thank you for this, but I assure you that you can do no more. It is time for us both to let go.

I love you, and I will love this world too once I am free from it. I wish you a fate far less ruined than my own.