Last letter to God

Why won’t you let me die?
I’m tired. I’m lonelly. What’s the use of living each boring days of this life when I hate every single minute I’m alive? Just take me. I’ve been bad my whole life and taking me could at least make this world a better place. What’s the use of keeping me here? You’ve already taken the only thing that keeps me alive almost two years ago. Well, one of the many things but the only person that makes up my everything. It’s the only lifeline I had before and you’ve taken it. Well, of course I’ve got my wonderful family and friends, but that was different. Now, after everthing, why am I still here? I don’t think I’m still here for a reason. I’m tired. Already. Tired of waiting for nothing. Nothing’s happening in my life anymore. I don’t even know what I want and I don’t want to anticipate anymore if there’s any value in this. I don’t intend to wait for whatever something surprise you got in your sleeves for me and have me realize to continue living a life that i can’t even call a life anymore. I’m a dead man walking, waiting for the world to stop revolving. You’ve sent me to a far flung country to be alone, helpless as if to really rub it in that I deserve to be alone. Right?
So, why don’t you take me? I’m not insisting. I am just tired of waiting.
I got a lump the size of a marble just at the left side of my breast, below my armpit. Sometimes, I’d wish it’s something deadly, cancerous. I just can’t wait for my exit from this world.
Yeah, I know. You decide when you’re tired playing like a puppeteer. Like a snap, You’re the one when to decide when it’s time. You hold the key. You have the button right there under your thumb, waiting perpetually, until you’ve think I’ve suffered enough and you’d push the button and end my life.

I dare you.