Suicide Note

If I were to write a suicide note, which seems more and more likely as the days go on, I'd write something like this.

My dear friends and family:
My sincere thanks go out to you for attempting to put some form of joy into my life; I have enjoyed my stay on this planet very much.  My life has been packed with enriching activities: swimming, watching the latest blockbusters at the cinema, drinking at the bar.  Therefore, I put no blame on you for causing me to go on this, my last journey.  However, I now feel that my life has no meaning or purpose whatever, and it is time for me to go to the land from which nobody returns, and everyone goes alone, no matter how close his fellow men walk behind him.  Why was I born?  What is the purpose of humanity on the planet?  Where are we headed in this crap-shoot called life?  I used to know, with high confidence, the answer to all of these questions; now, I fear I have forgotten them.  Every morning, I try my damnedest to get up out of bed, and I have failed miserably on multiple occasions.  School, nowadays, seems to be hardly an excuse.  Why should I burden my friends---if I can call them that---with my presence?  Same goes for my family.  Having spent most of the past year pondering this question, I find that the answer is decidedly no.  I had once been in love with the very idea of life---I felt that it seemed to have had an almost magical quality to it.  Boy, was I an idealistic, naive fool.  I have now seen the reality of life, and the truth is that it's a game with no rules and no way to win; a dead-end job with no promotion in sight and no wages either; a race with no finish line and no medals given out---a rat race, in other words.  In the words of the dolphins of The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy, "So long, so long, and thanks for all the fish!"
My sincere thanks, again, and see you in a few years.