6 Reasons To Die

I know that there are 3 things I can rely on.

1, I am human. I know this because when I found out that my existence was a lie, I screamed until I couldn't breathe. I bled, and I felt completely, earth-shatteringly weak. The weakness, the helplessness only a human could feel. Because we aren't really made for anything, we are made to go through the motions, labor, laugh, love cry, all for it to end. For us to be erased from the planet. And I felt all of this, consequently, I know I am human.

2, most everything I have been told in life is a lie. I know this because I found the logs that gave a detailed explanation of how I was bred into existence, made for the sole purpose to be an experiment. I was made so that the 'scientists' as they call themselves, could better understand human interactions.

3, I am a pessimistic seventeen year old girl who only wants to die.

Those are the only three things keeping me from going, completely, violently insane. I have already lost a good majority of my sanity, but at least I have enough left to understand my current situation. 63 hours, 27 minutes, and about 39 seconds ago I discovered my entire life was planned out. I discovered that I had no purpose other than to benefit my 'creators.' I was bred into existence with previous experiments. My parents were robots almost, they had human DNA, they were humans, but they had been mechanically created. They had not been born, but they were humans.

All of this was explained in log 37. 12 logs after this it explained in detail how and when I would die. I was supposed to live until 87, I would fall in love with a handsome, but fairly average man named Adam. I would die of a heart attack, caused by medical conditions that would be discovered when I was 43. I discovered all of this when I wandered out of my hospital room, I had experienced an unusual amount of panic attacks, and I decided to try to get diagnosed. I had found a binder, with all of these entries. They were not medical, but personal. As if I was being stalked. I stole the binder and left. I read it all about 2 and a half ago. I have decided that the best solution to this problem is not to eat, or respond in any way other than stare at the ceiling, sleep, and question the universe.

In these 2 and a half days, I have been trying to find some purpose in life. Some reason to live, I've been trying to make sense of the world. And I have come to the conclusion, that Earth is flat, and space is cold. I know this because I have fallen off the edge of Earth, and I let go of the edge. I let go and I fell into a cold, cold abyss. Where there is nothing left but fractured pieces of my life.

Entry 14

Cara Flint, age 13 at current entry. Completed seventh year of school as of 15:25. So far she is on track for her job occupation, partner, intelligence has not strayed from intended point.

First signs of high heart rate shown in the weeks leading up to log. Estimated development of heart condition will be at the age of 19.

Tracking chip remains in good condition. Estimated to last for 5-10 more years. Current foster home is still fully aware and willing to partake in this experiment. If Cara stays in this home, the memory will not have to be removed from foster parents. At the age of 18, she will move out and go to college. Memory will then be wiped from foster parents.

Additional notes: Hair has changed in predicted hue, possible flaw in genetics, next visit to doctor extract blood sample to do further tests. So far, Cara's death should still be a heart attack.

That was one of 1,289 logs. I was one of 100 experiments. I was an object, a project made simply out of curiosity.

I am not a human to them.

I am usable, not worth much. Simply a way to answer some questions they had. And it makes me sick. Everything is gone. The life that I had chased, passion. I no longer want to live. I've given up

Vaguely, I remember when I used to dream of being an astronaut. I wanted to walk on the moon, and look down on the world. I wanted to strain my eyes to see the tiny people. Then I grew older, I wanted to have money, and a boyfriend. Then I wanted to get into college, just a few weeks ago I was thinking about it. What college I wanted to go to. Trying to plan out a life.

And now, instead of fantasizing about the wonderful future I will have. The man I will marry, the job I will get, I make lists of reasons to die.

Reason 1: I already know everything. Living no longer has a point, the whole point of growing up is to see where the world will take you. See what will happen, to grow and change. To laugh, cry, jump up and down with joy when you get that one thing. I don't get that anymore. No point in living.

Reason 2: Everything in my life is a lie, I was just starting to truly embrace my foster parents, and they were working for the scientists that bred me into existence for entertainment.

Reason 3: I am tired. Tired of all the freaking lies. Tired of having to deal with all of this shit.

Reason 4: I don't want to die of a heart attack, I don't want to marry a man named Adam because someone put it in my freaking genes. I don't want to not have a choice.

Reason 5: I'm scared.

Reason 6: They probably know I have this. They probably will figure out, that their little experiment figured it out. They're going to kill me, that's obvious enough. Or at least erase my memory, and at that point. I would rather be dead.

I don't know what to think anymore. I'm supposed to be afraid, I'm supposed to cry I think. But I'm not, and I won't.

I have 6 reasons to die, all on a piece of paper, and a bottle of sleeping pills, a piece of paper and a pen.

It's almost funny, how well everything lined up. I've had these pills on my nightstand since last week. I've kept the paper and pen to write down things I need to remember.

Or notes.

6 reasons to die.

Sleeping pills.

And all the things to leave a suicide note.

And I'm sure as hell not dying from a heart attack.