I had moved to Asia on a lark.

Well maybe not a lark, I really did it for my lover, who couldn't adjust to American life. I had thought I would do all right, you know. I had everything I thought I needed, youth, energy, decisiveness, and optimism.

So what am I doing here now with some cyanide pills in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other you may ask. Well I guess they are on the ground now if things have gone well. Hopefully the tarp helps with the mess.

Anyways, the depression. I had problems throughout my life with it and I guess it has finally got to me. Actually I expected the move to be difficult, but worth it to be with her. So I moved. I didn't expect finding a job to be so difficult or acclimating to the strangeness of the culture to be so annoying. I swear I tried. I tried for 5 years until I guess I got to this point where I feel that I can try no more.

My depression affected her too, and anyone may expect, she left me in hopes of finding someone else. That was 2 years ago. I don't blame her, I hope she finds someone who fulfills her in a way that I perhaps never could. It wasn't until that point that I thought about moving back. But then I was hit with the reality of my situation.

For the 4 years I had been out of the country, my career had gone from great to "in shambles." No one wanted to hire the guy who left his senior research position at a nationally famous lab to become an under performing office worker at the branch of a no name Japanese company. My previous network had all moved on to bigger and better positions while I languished in a mediocrity that I can only describe as soul crushing.

So I gave myself a deadline last year as I sat mulling about my future options. I would give myself 1 year to fix my career and move back home. I sent resumes. I had interviews. And for a year, I put up with the disappointment of rejection. Oh I did other things. I went to the gym. I took medication for depression. I went to counseling. I tried to find other jobs in Asia. I paid exorbitant fees for psychiatric "help." But in the end, here I am, stuck in what seems to be perpetual soul crushing mediocrity, unable to return to that place I was at least content.

Maybe that's what I've learned on my journey, the funny thing about happiness is that it's where you least expect and once lost, it can be extremely difficult to get back.

And well, I wasn't able to return to get it back. There are many maybes in my mind. Maybe I could have done this or that. Maybe I still can do those things. But I simply don't have it in me anymore.

To whom it may concern: I have already filed the necessary paperwork with regards to my death. They are on the desk beside my body. The remainder of my savings, separated into multiple envelopes, are next to the documents. These envelopes are specifically there to deal with the death fees and legal fees incurred by me before today.

I don't have anyone left to notify. My lawyer, Mr. Takahashi, will help deal with the situation tomorrow as soon as he checks his email in the morning.

Thanks for reading. I am free.