A suicide note to the world

Life becomes harder when you find what makes life worth living, yet he doesn't love you back. Days are nothing more than days; formed of torture filled moments of being seperated from him. I've become sick with nostolgia, for home is where the heart is, and my heart belongs to him.

So now, I am sitting in a plastic chair from my classroom, staring intently at my computer screen, watching the words form from my fingertips as I am typing. Writing has become harder lately. My mind is constantly thinking of him, and I am incapable of properly writing about how I feel, for no mortal words can possibly explain the pain of this heartache. So now I am waiting, somewhat regretting what I have been typing; not knowing where this is heading, but something must come of this...it has to....

It came. The reason to why I can't write. I've been intending to tell the world of my love for him, and my constant struggles, yet I have to tell myself of this painful contusion that has lodged itself into my heart, mind, and soul.
Funny now, now that I am dying. This marasmus is spelled L-O-V-E. My every reason to life has now gave me every reason to die. I'm nothing without him, and now because he hates me, my life will be lived alone, if I survive the pain.
I know what this is called: Unintentional Suicide.
Suicide for loving him...