"Life was good, people were good, but I was not meant to live that life… as I was the only bad person among the good ones."
This was the last note—
Found in his pocket.
When the police discovered the body.
A boy of 27 years was found dead—
Lying under a tree near a park.
People gathered around him.
Watching.
Whispering.
Trying to understand.
What had happened?
What kind of pain had he been going through—
That he chose suicide as a solution?
What kind of suffering had pushed him this far?
No one knew.
Everyone guessed.
Some stood in silence.
Some spoke in low voices.
Some simply stared—
At a life that had already ended.
The body remained still beneath the tree.
Unmoving.
Unanswered.
The police stood nearby—
Observing the scene.
Handling everything carefully.
And informing his family members.
But even as the crowd grew—
Even as questions filled the air—
The silence around that body felt heavier than anything else.
Because somewhere in that silence—
A story had ended.
Or perhaps—
It had only just begun.