I've wanted to die for quite some time. Things just aren't going right. Never have gone right, really. No one seems to care either, nor even notice I exist. Not that I'd have much to say even if someone had wanted to be my friend. I'd make a lousy friend anyway. I'm probably even boring the person reading this. I'm certainly boring myself. Not that anyone will ever find this note. Oh, but if they do!
If they do it means that I've been granted my greatest wish! To be released from this mortal coil. This isn't a suicide note, no. That would mean I've taken my own life, and we all know what that means. Who wants that kind of existence, to be reborn on a hill every day, reset as if nothing ever happened? That's even worse than the life I'm living. Life I've lived! Yes, yes, yes! I'm sure I'm happy now. The dead me. The me writing this note isn't happy at all. Never have been happy, really.
Anyway, the purpose of this note is to say to the man or woman who has killed me: "Thank you!"
All I really have is this queer little ring. A wizard gave it to me once, said I reminded him of his dead son. I guess I resemble his dead son even more now. Anyway, he said it would make me happy. Lift the weight of the world off my shoulders or some such thing. Come to think of it, it's the only time anyone has ever given me anything. Personally, I think the thing is worthless. Just like me.
I tried it for a while, the "Happiness Ring," but eventually I couldn't wear it anymore. It made me feel odd -- not myself. I didn't like feeling that way so I locked it away. It's pretty enough, though. It might fetch a few gold coins at the merchant. Sorry not to leave much more behind. But, my life never really amounted to much anyway, did it?
Yours very truly,
Hirrus Clutumnus, deceased