weBLOG for August 2nd, 2004

So, a couple of years back, it seems that every movie studio wanted to make a space movie. Two studios even tried to do a "going to mars" movie. After watching both of them, one clearly stood out from the other, if not for it's science and plot, then for the humor in it. And that movie is the one I included a line from yesterday. Tom Sizemore giving just one of the many funny lines from the movie, "Red Planet".

So, this is my fiftieth blog, and I feel like doing something special. I thought I'd hit this plateau months ago, but then again, hardly anything in our lives goes as planned, does it boys and girls? So without further delay, here it is, my suicide note.

If you're reading this, I've taken the cowardly way out. Don't fret, I popped some painkillers and drank alot of alcohol, so that the blood would quickly run out of me.
I did it here so that Sarah wouldn't be the first one to find me. If you're reading this, tell her that her Pooh wanted to go visit God, and once you go visit God, you can't come back. Tell her that Pooh will always love her, and that he'll be waiting with God for her many years down the line.
If you're reading this, you probably think that I'm a selfish asshole. Well, that's the strongest emotion anyone's had about me in a long while. And while I'll pass from people's memory soon, at least I know they thought about me when I wasn't there.
If you're reading this, you realize that I was hurting more than you knew. My life was so empty and meaningless, filled with friends ready to drop me on a whim, and unappreciative family. I just got tired of waiting for my life to get better.
If you're reading this, you're probably thinking what a waste this is. Allow me to remind you of what a waste I've been. The future would have been just like the past: Things started, and left undone. Such potential already wasted.
If you're reading this, you're probably remembering me happy, wondering why I would have done this. Simply because I can't remember myself being happy. All I seem to remember is hurt upon disappointment.
If you're reading this, this is me evaporating. My website and e-mails will be deleted from disuse. My story files will sit forgotten on hard drives before being erased. All my junk will be packed away into boxes and left to rot and break. The grass on my grave will die. My headstone will start to erode. Lives will go on. People will start to forget my name. Memories will be made that don't include me. I would say that I would start disappearing, but I started to disappear long ago. And one moment, not far from now, I'll vanish, much like I was in life.

Beloved Son/Brother/Friend
Christopher David Granholm Jr.

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