Breakdown

Начало книги

I’ve been waiting to die, but I’m not even sick yet. I tell myself I want to die. What’s left to live for? Sophie, my heart, my love, my life, is dead. Rosie, my sweet little baby, my joy, my second love, is gone too. What’s left? A house full of memories.

And a world gone to hell. What’s left to go on for?

I’ve gathered all the pills in the house and put them in a plastic bag, but so far I haven’t taken them. How much worse does it have to get before I can take them? They sit on the counter in the bathroom, with a bottle of water. I look at them each night before I go to bed alone. But I can’t take them.

I want to get sick. I want this to be over.

If you find this, if you know me, and you care, and I’m dead, can you send it to my brother Jon? I’ve taped an envelope with his address inside the front cover. Just tear out the pages with writing and mail them to him. If you can. If there’s still mail going overseas. If there’s still mail at all.

Читать дальше →