A scribble next to a suicide note |
His pen scribbled over the paper while he wrote his suicide note. Harry Fuller never had been a happy person, since the day he was born his life was filled with disappointments. Every time he seemed to have the slightest bit of luck it only led to greater disappointments. He never won a single thing, he got a job as a banker a week before the banks collapsed and his wife left him for his brother after a year of marriage. But today he decided to make an end to it, tears where running through his eyes while he was wasting perfectly good paper for something little as a lousy suicide note. In my opinion he could have hanged himself without one, nobody would miss the bastard. Because Harry had the rare gift of being the kind of person you dislike from the moment you saw him. I’m pretty sure that the only people who ever loved him where his parents and I even have my doubts about them. The only reason I’m writing this is because I feel the need that his story has to be told. I am writing this as we speak on a sheet of paper next to his so called “suicide note”. It’s rather bad to be honest but here’s what it says. Dear world, I’m fed up with it all, I can’t stand living on this planet anymore. So I won’t be bothering it any longer with my presance. Harry. Silly bastard he wrote presence wrong, how he got accepted as a banker god only knows. Even his handwriting is like that of a doctor it’s just scribbling’s made by a toddler with parkinsons! You might be wondering who I am, well I’m not telling you the only thing I will tell you is that I found this poor bastard hanging with a rope around his neck. Even the knot is tied wrong; he could at least googled how you tie a noose. But so far as you know I might be the mailman or his neighbor but either way that doesn’t change the fact that Harry Fuller is dead. He died and will be buried along with his name, a man that history will not remember and a person filled with a life of bad luck. As I’m trying to bring up some sympathy for this man I find it hard to think of anything good. I knew him rather well but in a way a person knows his worst enemy. Take this pen for instance Harry always carried it around with him. Now this is a very decent pen it’s a Parker, very expensive as well but it not the kind of pen you would expect him to carry. You would expect him to carry a ton of Bic pens which he could afford to lose, he never told me how he got it but he always carried it around. And that annoys me he was an unlucky jerk but he always had pretty things! He had a good looking wife, a good job, a nice house and even a well-trained dog (who died because he ate rat poision). How did he got all that while he was so unfortunate, he knew he had bad luck! He carried around a knife in his socks so he could protect himself from pickpockets, while he’s dangling next to me I can still see the huge scar the day he pulled the knife to defend himself against a pickpocket. Result: got robed and almost bled to death! But to return to the pen I briefly stopped writing and took my time to examine it, I noticed that there is something written on it with curly letters, it says “it won’t fail because of me” ha! The vanity. I wish I had a greater insight of this man so I could tell you more about him because this is all I know… He is a sad miserable little person and he shall not be missed, his name shall not be remembered only perhaps by his gravestone but stones will fade and legends live on…. And Harry Fuller was no legend at all. |