Drew Robinson woke up, spread peanut butter on a cinnamon-raisin bagel, pulsed a green smoothie, sat at his kitchen table and finished writing a note that would explain to his family and friends why he had decided to end his life. He had spent the past month alone in his house, confined by the pandemic and quarantined in his own mind. He hated his life. He hated that no one knew how much he hated his life.
"I hope eventually that you guys will realize that no one could've seen this coming to prevent it because of how hard I try to hide it," he wrote, "and that it's no one else's fault."
He apologized -- to Daiana, Darryl, Renee, Britney and Chad, the five people he loved the most. The ones who knew him best and still couldn't see the sadness suffocating him. Even they believed the avatar Drew had created: a Major League Baseball player, handsome, charming, funny, with an easy laugh and a big smile. Drew was living his dream and wanting to die.
Guilt commingled with a sense of peace when he signed the letter: "I'm sorry. Drew Robinson." Now he could get everything ready, tidy up the remnants of the last 27 years...READ MORE
