The letter

To my loved ones,

I’ve always wondered how I would die.

Like most men, I imagined it would be something noble — fighting on a battlefield or peacefully surrounded by the people I love. But deep down, I knew neither of those endings would be mine. I knew it would end like this — by my own hands.

Every movie or book I’ve ever read taught me that when someone takes their own life, they’re supposed to leave a note explaining why. So this is my note to you.

First of all, I want to make it clear — there’s nothing you could have done to stop this. It isn’t anyone’s fault. This is my choice, and I’m sorry you have to live with the consequences.

I’m hoping this will explain why.

For a long time, I’ve felt like this. It started slowly, almost unnoticed, until it reached a point where I couldn’t hold on anymore.

Back in high school, it was manageable. I was never alone, so it was easy to hide behind the noise and laughter. But when I joined university, it got worse. Somewhere during that time, I started hearing the voice.

At first, it was a low whisper — barely there. But with time, it grew louder and clearer.

The first time I heard it was at a party. I don’t remember who it was for — only that my friend Alex insisted we go. He said attending that party would “change our lives.” In a way, it did for me.

Alex had been my best friend since the first day of high school. We ended up at the same university, studying the...