Dear Betty,

I tried to ring you last night. No answer. I tried to inform you of my decision to abolish this act that we play; to let you know that when the sun rises tomorrow, my phone will be turned off, my sheets will be cold, and your world will be turned upside down. Hopefully.

Betty, I tested it out today. I wanted to feel that burn of something other than my anger flow through my body. I have the scar to prove it – which could be a forever reminder if I fail, yet again, tomorrow. But I feel confident in my methods and don’t think I’ll have to worry about hiding my scar. Hopefully.

Betty, how I wish you could see me right now. See that glow in my eyes and the flush of my cheeks. I finally have a plan that I can accomplish. I can’t tell you how great that makes me feel. Like a new life will be born, in a different world. Hopefully.

It’s been a couple years since this has been on my agenda. My hands haven’t stopped shaking since yesterday at noon – perhaps it is my excitement, my nervousness, or maybe six headache pills at once was three too many. My alarm is set for 5:30am so I can see the sun rise. I’ve been told it is a beauty – me being such a night owl, I rarely enjoy a sunrise. Tomorrow should be different though. Hopefully.

Well Betty, I don’t have much left to leave you with. I tried many a time to let you step in. You must not have gotten the invitation. I’m sorry for that, I think we could have made a good team. I’m also sorry for any inconveniences I’ll be causing you, but I think in the long run you’ll make it. Perhaps even learn something. Hopefully.

Have a good nights sleep – this might be your last for a while.

With all the hope in the world for you,

Me.