Monday, June 11, 2012

Suicide letters sent to the blog by loved ones left in their wake.

      Suicide letters from those left to find by those loved them and carried emotions.



       This goes to the families, friends and others that you loved, cared about or had thoughts about the one that killed themselves and held a place in your live with most sincere of hearts. Be it from the pain of being used or the crash that sometimes hit’s the nonviolent psychopath.

       These two crossroads sometimes breed the same outcome. The victim and predator do have a second meeting point, which I find most interesting.

     That final, most total act of self-absorption.

       So desolate these Angels and Devils, running freely, playing freely, jumping happily, hungry to eat and tear apart, those contented by attention, some feeling a final encounter or those that wish to have a final audience with: Waste themselves either by being used or the depths of their using people as merely propellants for their mental, financial gains.

      A curtain closing moments slightly prior to the point of being that worthy of Shakespeare. Before eyes shut eternal ending painful thoughts intentionally shut down by conscious wishes for some sense of peace and tranquility: to atone, feel so some sense of grace and forgiveness for flagrant stupidity and ignorance. To say they were wrong to the ones that cared, loved and believed them to be ones worthwhile.

      As they die, both by their own hands and those worrying about a here-after.


       For the prey: The victim: Enough being way more than enough. Time to end and once again be free, new in innocents splendor and be reborn . Been used enough. Been embarrassed sadly by their own weakness and failed understanding to loved ones that warned them, albeit repeatedly, with both open hearts and sincere honesty. To close their eyes and sleep eternal. Some finding one that would slay them, meeting a physical killer half-way. To find their heaven. Their guiltless place from being physically wasted, killed and thus, blown away. To reach Heaven promised them in the Bible. Not committing suicide yet reaching the same outcome.

      Finding peace.

      That being death.

      For the Predator: Finding one like themselves and comprehending the ghastly ugliness of their action, their essence, their actions and seeing a profound sickness in their being and lives. Usually after embracing one that accepts them and points out what they are. To the predator, finally finding one of equal cadence, one like them, displaying sheer sensations, thoughts and desires. Slapping them as their mothers would, bringing them to some sad embrace of both reality and humanities sake. Years, decades perhaps, the nonviolent psychopath, by their own thoughts and desires took them away. No longer wishing to feel, to be hurt or used. Reaching some place, some neverland when all crashed down. To the point they once again realize.

       To point they once again allow themselves to feel.


      This being a point of equality. A  juncture  of convergence. Sad, rejoiceful meets  happy and depressing.

      The crossroads seeking forgiveness.

       A road where they die.

       <Authors note>

        Once again, and I so find myself saying this a great deal, thank you for sending me these wondrous letters born of experience and its fallout. Thank you for sharing both your pain and most importantly, some area to teach others.

       You have done this selflessly, perhaps to express warnings to others, perhaps to share grief’s felt on your behalf and free them, or to free ghosts of loved ones you’ve known.


       These are the letters prior to their deaths. Both found at scenes or found in pockets as some deaths were sought by foreign hands.

       Cry if you will. Free yourself to do so.

       What could possibly be more human than to let your eyes leak? Gasp and find hardness in holding, sustaining vital air in your lungs.

       Find some humanity in the now dead with their final written words.

       The way written without editing, typos corrected, honor to their words.



        Le Bel Age:

        To the families of loved ones deaths: I cannot find words to express thanks.

        No Froms or To’s will given here. I do this to honor both those that killed themselves and you the families and friends. They that passed know who they are.

      You that survived and pursue know whom you are.

        No disgrace, no remorse, only final words and your thoughts eventually given proper justice on this blog.



                                  Le Bel Age:


                I kill myself this alone night. I am not sorry to end this agony that fills me. I must end this madness and regrets of heart and minds,

            I am so ever sorry for what I have made my famly and friends feel and sadness great to their lives. I was fooled and humiliated, for this I can no longer stand in eyes of myself. I failed to see truths given me. So ashamed,

        Mother and father, please forgive the child you gave birth to. Sorry to diregard what you taughts me.

I given much words from others. Those give me hopes to find brightness and happynous to sustain me.

         You did not fail me.

     I love you all so much.

       Wrists slit. bathtub warm water, that of birth.

            Falling to peaceful droughsynous

           Must end

               Love you so ver



                    I have trashd so many.

     Wasted thooose that asked for it. Took their money and minds emotions to give me somethings. Grant me gaynes, and steroes…

     Pills fuckings wurds. If I cud be sory.

                           If cud feeeeels, I wood tri.

        I kant do shit,

                      Womns plygrnds 4 sx nt gns

           Diings nws.

                       Gnghts n srys,


                    I fld u’sss.






            Christ, where two begin areas I made nistakes?

      Meeeting her?

             To daze of serhing waks on beeches for waurm sunnsets. Rms in ams kisings.

                 This is diiing andits ok. Tiredes is I.

      Pleze fohgives kme.

Killing thoughtss of you all??>

                      I soo bevlived in her. So wisheddd to be wti hur. She made me fels aliv and needsed.

                                     I amn trashed nds wsted now. Sorry to hurts you alll so mcchu.

      I dids nt 2 whis t hrts uou’’’’s

             I fucks uyp.







        I once, for the first time in about three decades feel sorry for what I have done to women. I feel both pain and sorrow. I used women repeatedly, with no sense of guilt or remorse. I gained oral satisfactions and from a single finger to three fingerts over time to penetrate that anally.

        Most would grant me enemas on them. I’d sickly watch pressure build, watching discomfort press both eyes and breathing. I so appreciated the pain felt by weaker fools of humanity.

       I got a sense of strength of from bending, making them feel my will and them succumbing to their own weak self worth.

       Such a rush! Such a feeling of dominance! I was special. I was strong

       I was God!

       What crshaed me to finally end this”?
        I was visited my grndpants that I lovedd before, splliting lifes.

        Dreems… druigs and alcohol an failed blue penz fumbllings wit vraoyoins

         Diiiiiing nbiow,

         Flls facccccing shttti.

         Wrmth s nicee ddeth tks mmmme

         Sweat Geeshus, ddjnt men thurxz sssss





I was used by this guy and

 fuck that. I know be3tter.

Mons, dads, bruthers warned me about ,.

Dn0oe fourtths

U gvs shitt llils hominine fstrrrr

Jess zrry gives meeee


Gnjnma cuiaz smone to klli em. Ihpoes thye illwezs.


         What can be said of someone as smart and educated as I before killing themselves? I am not, should not be considered a ignorant nor stupid woman. I have grown to affluence and stature. I have done this through both using men and keeping my shape from bulimia. Master of illusion and confidence of men that refuse to see and wish to have a trophy wife and blind themselves to all else.

        What do you want?

        I have debased, ashamed and degraded them from both pushing to get vasectomies to the point of sleeping with their friends.

        I have no regrets on this.

        I am simply bored.

        There is something else and I wish to find it.

        No regrets.

        Jacuzzi, warm water.

        Slitting wrists elongated, no suturing there….

        Good day.





This is the end of me. Place neeeedlews finlas in emmeee.


So tyrd and sadd. Sorries to friends as ur all tht I hhad.

Plls. Fuciking dwoners crashing eplicsing …

Hhroin vians

Can flkly

Tu sys pn fllls don’t wnt cryumns



What can I say as a fat female, weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds plus? I so wanted to be just loved and wanted and dare I say, admired. I wanted to be accepted by a man and not simply used for sex as I had before.

      Deer god!

I evens did right. Got married four times in front of uy0o to kill guilt on my p[art.

Don’t get me wrong, as this is my death note. I did try to gain attention from men through years suing the size of my tits and willingness to be laid.

          No9t wishing alonenous hatting my father. Shit he gave me being fat, sad and unwanted.

    Lord, forgive me. I wanted so t be wanted I would let them have me. Cars, abandoned house, cemetaries, giving blowjobs behind mons house.

Sorry jesus.

       Manic deprsiive they said I am. Got away froms you and mendicated. din't help.////

Failed at killing myself before

Will prevail this time.

                               Damn… finding it harders to seplel write.

           Ooverrdsoe gppring

                Flee no giult Mrak.

Tish nto yrou dnoing
dornwing drowins, ddrowning.
\]shit, mARK....
mzzi uoy...

On thoer esid ess ouy.

ruoy erohs








      This is part of the many recent letters sent to me by both family members and friends alike and their beloved departed.

      Keep this singular truth in mind: At no point did I ever ask for these things to be sent to me, nor did I ever wish for such abrasive endings of lives or sadness by those left in the harsh wakes of death.

      If I could cry, I have little doubt I would at their last words. Tears are so gone from me now. Sadness is, to me, a life left behind in dust. I find solace on god paintings in the sky. To stare at the clouds and view wondrous sights: an elephant, image white against sharp blue. Horses crossing one another, and snapping turtle going toward nothing with mouth open. I view to the sky for happiness as most things on this Earth fail in comparison to God, Jesus, and life beyond lies, compromise and plastic tears.

      I can only be objective to things where this blog is concerned.

      Humble apologies: I do not wish to state submissions you have given through both heart and soul as mere ’things’. They are not such as you most sadly feel them, and I, so grateful you would share them. Some things on my part I shall not edit. For this, apologies.

      I will, in due time, place your comments as those left behind by those leaving you, departing from all of us, your emotions, thoughts and hopes wish to place here, in this blog.

      I cannot do this without placing my wishes and keeping anonymity on your part. I said I would do this many entries ago. I have to have some peace in this blog created and sustained by me and three others and respect all that submit here without backgrounds they wished to give.

      In simple truth: the bereaved far to openly travel to lands they regret later on. So raw in emotion, so hoping to seek truth, affirmation for things that have little or no explanation they can drive themselves to the gates of madness.

      Sorry, I will not help you on this trip. I will post your thoughts. I will do this with no bearing on anything posted or your connection thereof.

      In conclusion to this entry: To those left in the murky waters yet white-capping on shores you hold close: The ones you loved that have passed futures are based on what you believe in in your mind. The memories, your memories , are what you hold as true. Do you hold happiness shared with them? Do you hold sadness of things they brought to your doorstep?

      Do you embrace this one, or cast them off, with fake shit you display at their funeral to save face?

      This is neither directed at no one nor any people of any land based on race, creed or heritage.

      With thanks, embraces as well as milk and kisses,

-Mark William Darus.