[ WP ] A father sheds tears of joy with his wife in the hospital as they greet their newborn child together . As his wife rests peacefully , the happy father cradles his baby and pens a suicide note .

I'm not fine. 
 
 I lie all the time. 
 
 I lie to my wife, to my friends, my family. I lie to myself sometimes. I'm not fine. I will never be fine. I've tried. Everything. Pills, walking, exercise… anything to take me out of myself for a while. It never works. It does n't matter. My existence is a mental anaesthetic. Emotional frostbite; far past the point of pain. Nothing is better than this. Nothing is better than lying every time you tell your wife you love her. Nothing is better than experiencing atrocities and feeling about them the same way that you do when you hold your first born child in your arms. 
 
 So I choose nothing. 
 
 Maybe one day your heart will be broken, and maybe one day you'll break hearts. You'll say: `` It's not you, it's me.'' Maybe one day you'll understand what I mean when I say this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me; I do n't know, ca n't know, and certainly wo n't know. I hope, in this moment, that one day you'll understand. It will mean that you're not like me. It will mean that you'll have inside you what I'm missing. I do n't even know what that is. I know that I'm broken. I thought you could fix me. 
 
 That was selfish, I guess. 
 
 I just wanted to one day tell someone that I'm fine and have it be the truth. 
 
 You're going to have a hard time growing up. I do n't know if your mother will do well. I'm probably placing a huge burden on you, and I know I am on her. I'm sorry. To both of you. What I do know is that I'm out of strength. I've fought for so long, lied to myself for so long that I'm out of strength. I'm using the last bit that I have to write this because you deserve it. You deserve what I ca n't give. You deserve to know that your father fought. I've always fought. For others. For my parents, my friends, my wife. Today though, I choose myself. 
 
 I ca n't fight anymore, not even for you. 
 
 I would love you, if I could. I would love her. I would be happy. I would stop lying, be fine and live a fulfilling life. I tried to love you. I held you, tiny and helpless, asleep in my arms. I could n't do it though. I could never be the person who brought you up, I'm not strong enough for that, not good enough. I've never been good enough. I thought I could be for you. I could n't be for me, or for her. I tried, I really tried. She told me I was good enough, that I'd always been good enough, that she loved me. I told her I loved her too. I wish I could love her, or anyone. I wish I could love you. 
 
 When you finally read this, I'll have been gone a long time, you'll be all grown up and I'll have my nothing. Please do n't mourn for me. 
 
 I'm fine. 

