Flowers for Algernon

by Daniel Keyes

Thoughts of suicide to stop it all now while I am still in control and aware of the world around me. But then I think of Charlie waiting at the window. His life is not mine to throw away. I’ve just borrowed it for a while, and now I’m being asked to return it.

I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.

P.S. please if you get a chanse put some flowrs on Algernons grave in the bak yard.