And I looked, and there was none to help

I’m thinking of doing away with myself, Mortimer. I realize it’s been quite some time since last I wrote. My life has taken a turn for the worse, I’m afraid. Maria left me and took the flat in London, while I retain my family’s country estate. It’s rather tedious, taking the rail every morning and evening to and from the Firm, but circumstances preclude the obtaining of appropriate accommodations in Towne. A week after our divorce, Maria was engaged to the most boorish man I have ever had the displeasure to meet…a rather grotesque fellow, who looks as if he’d stepped out of a novel by Hugo. However, he answers her every beck and call, and so I must suppose that she is happy. I, on the other hand, remain quite alone, and in such resides the source of my great misery. To my astonishment, I have become fond of a local girl, the daughter of a man, to whom I let certain properties. We get on famously and have been friendly for several years. She is full of life, ambition, hopes and dreams…it’s positively invigorating. Recently, however, she refused to accept a small gift I had purchased for her in Towne, citing the difference in our social classes as being a barrier of impropriety. I was shocked to find that my heart was absolutely shattered. I wonder, my friend, why we allow society to splash the cold water of practicality on our hopes, dashing them against the sharp rocks of unforgiving “reality.” Why do we not cling fiercely to our dreams? Are they not the only beautiful things to be had in this life? I would sell all that I have for one gentle word, one tender moment shared with her. I would wait forever if I knew she was at the other end. Curse this world for its cruelty, perpetually advising the way to happiness but never offering the hand of friendship. No matter, my words will be an indictment, my life a testimony against them. “And now, farewell kindness, humanity, and gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings that expand the heart!” I go now to seek comfort in the pain that has been my one faithful and familiar companion. Over the course of some months, I have prepared a large vat of porridge. By attaching weights to my wrists and ankles, I intend to plunge myself into the depths of the vat. It is my understanding that drowning is one of the most excruciating deaths that one may experience. I expect it will be made even more so due to the viscous composition of my chosen solution. And so, fare thee well, my friend. May yours be the happiness that has always eluded me.