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April 21, 2010
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This is what she wrote to her family, carefully placing the letter on the kitchen table so that they could not miss it:

Dear Mom, Dad, Anna, and Pogo:

By the time you read this, I will already be dead. I’m not sure what happens to people when they die, but I’m willing to take the risk that it won’t be bad. I know that this is coming out of nowhere, and I’m sorry that it has to come to this, but I don’t think I have another option. I need you to know that there was nothing you could have done to stop me. The reasons behind this have nothing to with any of you. You’ve always been very loving and kind to me, and I care about all of you, but this is my decision.

Daddy, I know things are tough right now, but I need you to snap out of your sadness. Your family is going to need you after this, and you have to be tough enough to make sure everything is going to be O.K. Be a man.

Mom, thank you for everything. I’ve never known someone so accepting, so willing to sacrifice their time and energy to take responsibility for something they didn’t need to. You’ve taught me so much, and I can’t express out how grateful I am that you were in my life. Thank you.

Anna, you’re the best little sis a girl can hope for. From the first time I saw you, I knew we would get along together. You’ve always made me laugh when I’m down, and I’ve always been in awe of your compassion and understanding towards other people. Don’t lose that; it’s a valuable trait. I want you to live your life fully and follow your dreams. If you still want to be a dancer, then go for it. Take care of Pogo for me. He’s yours now.

Guys, you’re the best family anyone could ever hope to have. I hope you remember all the good times we had together and that this will not hurt you too much. I don’t want to cause pain, but I don’t want to suffer anymore.

I love you so much,


To her school, dropping it in the office’s postbox after hours so it wouldn’t be read until the next day:

Dear Students, Teachers, and Faculty of Eastwater Prep:

I’ve attended this institution for the last four years. In this time, I’ve learned how to graph functions, how to find the town of Hell, Michigan on the world map, discovered the significance of the words in the writings of Thoreau and Shakespeare, and learned how to paint a three-dimensional house. I’ve figured out the rules to basketball, the intricacies behind the U.S. tax code (boring as they were, thank you Mr. Prescott), and how to bake a fairly decent Bundt cake. What I have not learned are the two things that I’ve been trying to figure out since the first day I attended. Why have I been shunned by almost every one of you, and why do people like to treat each other like s*** here?

I’ve given everything I’ve got to be liked here. I’ve tried being friendly, tried being mean, tried being funny, tried being serious, tried being flirty, tried being hard-to-get. Nothing seems to work. I’ve offered every part of myself in the hope that some of you would accept me as one of your own, but all I’ve received for my efforts are nothing but scorn and hurtful words. I was perfectly willing to become friends with any one of you. I have to admit, this year I was almost desperate, and I almost sacrificed my values out of loneliness. After everything I’ve tried, why can’t you accept me as one of your own? Why am I always on the outside? What have I done wrong?

I’ve always sensed something very wrong with this school. Everyday I watch the bad things you do. The teasing, the bullying, the destruction. I’ve witnessed reputations being shot down and hearts being broken. Deirdre Watson was one such victim to your malice. I thought you all would learn from your mistakes after she went away. The lack of empathy upon news of her death stunned me. Sure, I was at the funeral. I saw all the crying. But I also heard the jokes you made afterwards, as if she had become some scapegoat, some target for your hatred. Everybody around here gets burned sooner or later, but Deirdre was my friend, and I can say she honestly didn’t deserve it. And neither do I.

I know about a week from today you’ll be making the same stupid jokes about me that you made about Deirdre. I’m writing this letter to tell you that I don’t care anymore. I’ve become immune to anything you can do to hurt me now. I guess “numb” would be the right word to describe it. You’re some of the worst people to spend a lifetime with, and it’s a shame I had to waste my short time on Earth with all of you. I hope my death and this letter will make you hurt, because a great deal of the blame for my suicide will rest firmly on your shoulders. There are some people reading this that are innocent, and I have to say that this letter is not directed at them. But for the rest, you know who you are.



P.S. I want to thank you, Mrs. Jensen, for teaching me the finer points of eloquent writing. I wouldn’t have managed this kind of beautifully-written note without your guidance. Just so you know, I don’t blame you for anything.

To her best friend, slipped through the narrow vent in her locker:


You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, and one of the only people who have treated me kindly, so I wanted to tell you that I love you and that I’m grateful for you and for our friendship. You’ve always been sticking with me through all of the crap going on in my life, and I feel like you’re one of the only people who really understands me. After I’m gone, you’re welcome to take any of my stuff; I want you to have it. Just show this to my parents so they believe you. I’m sorry that this has to happen, but I believe this is the only way. I hope you can accept my decision, even if you don’t agree with it.

Thanks for everything,


To her boyfriend, slipped into his mailbox and quickly driving away:


You’re a d*******. I’d write something longer, but you don’t deserve that many words. I hope you rot in hell, you a**hole

Go die,


To Deirdre, written on a tag attached to a bouquet of vibrant red roses (her favorite) placed carefully against her gravestone:

I miss you, but I’ll be with you soon, sweetheart. Wait for me.

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anonymous said...
May 5, 2010 at 4:48 pm
Annie and Anna are sisters? Their names are too similar.. And actually derive from "ann". So, no, don't use Anna and Annie together. Otherwise, it was great. :D
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