A little folded slice of life

I'm getting the remnants off the floor and surfaces before the floor people make it to my room, and I was taking out the trash when I found a piece of paper on the floor, all folded in fours. I put down the trash and unfolded it. "To whomever is listening, this is a note. Nothing more, nothing less." I found a suicide note from God knows when. How strange to find it just sitting there on my bed. It must have fallen out of something else, but what? Where did it come from? It's not dated, either, but it's signed, and the handwriting is strangely mine. It's calm handwriting, but slightly manic. With flourishes. It's too pretty.

I suppose I've been living in this room, off and on, for 15 years now. It could be from college, or it could have fallen out of something from high school. I've moved ever era of my life out of this room in the past week. Anything could have been unearthed.

How sad, too. How sad that I always feel this way. That nothing can make it stop; this pattern of self-love and self-hatred will always continue. Amazing the capabilities of the human brain. My beautiful, defective, human brain.