I Bid You Farewell

In the event you're unable to read cursive (the first person I showed it to couldn't), the full text is below, in boring computer font not written by hand.


Dearest reader,

I am not long for this world at the time of this writing.  Dusk swiftly approaches to snuff out my fire and soon I will be no more.  Regrets are all that plague my mind when I ponder the last three decades of incessant failures; the legacy I intended as a parting gift is scantly realized at such a premature stage.  Madame Death is but the only conductress on this icy, black train hurtling ever faster along wicked rails.  For you see, I have agreed to affix myself to the confines of the wilderness for but three suns, nary a modern luxury to be found.  Indeed, dearest reader, camping has altered my life’s cold tracks ahead, and they grow hotter as I hastily plummet toward my inevitable Hell.  It is yet unclear which fate shall befall me: the deadly kiss of a wild beast lurking in shadow, the suffocating embrace of a watery grave, or mayhap the hand of one of my contemporaries suffering a lunatic trance shall bestow a fatal blow behind mine eyes.  Regardless of the lethal terminus to which this somber engine briskly ushers me, I bid you farewell.