July 23, 2025
Listen Up Dumbfucks:
Most people kill themselves because of a mental condition. This is true in my case too. The condition I suffer from is that I am not normal, I am not like everyone of you "sane" people.
I am not normal in the sense that I am not like every other one of you brain-dead zombies. I can think. I can reason intelligently. I can observe and learn from life. I can make my own decisions and follow through on them. And I can do these without any aid from celebrities, T.V., radio or MySpace. Unfortunately, every one of you shit-brained lemmings seem to lack these skills and I can't fucking take it any more.
Since everyone else in this world is a fucking retarded drone who revels in their ignorance and unintelligence, I must put an end to my misery. I truly wish I was normal. I wish I could be a fucking retarded sponge like all of you. I wish I could have the same conversations day in and day out about sports, politics and "how about that weather huh?". But I can't.
Sure you'll see this note and say Mirjana's the crazy one. You have to it's the only way you can go on thinking you're sane and your pathetic life is meaningful. Go ahead, call me the weirdo like everyone else surely will. Then, return to your happiness of everyday mindless monotony.
My only wish is that the bullet I put into my brain doesn't kill me but only leaves me brain dead. For if ignorance is bliss and everyone of you fuck-for-brains is truly happy, then living a life without a brain stem in a coma, devoid of any cognitive ability must surely be utopia.
Leave My Machine Plugged In You Fucking Retards,
Mirjana
P.S. Tell the insurance company I was killed by 2 black men. They'll buy that with no further questions.
You too can have a great suicide note just like Kurt Cobain, Princess Dianna and David Caruso wrote without all that pretentious hijacker crap about "Allah this...jihad that...blah blah blah...20 virgins...death to american pigs...stay in school...mecca hajj tortilla" that all the kids are so into these days.
Select a reason, fill in your name, click a PS message and hit the "Write Note" button. Then, pussy out, take a 50-hour a week job you hate, marry the first person that feigns interest in you, have some dissappointing and ungrateful children, purchase a ton of your local sports team's merchandise, spend countless hours fantasizing about the happiness you are going to buy when you win Powerball and eagerly await your natural death.