[i]Another day of monotonous toil. Afterwards, subjected to the stress of rush hour traffic. Finally reaching our home, it was all I could do to reach the bedroom before collapsing in an exhausted heap. Exhausted, yet still satisfied. Right? After all; the shitty job, meager income, constant drama and the like can be easily overlooked by savoring the good things in life. My friends, my family. The people who help me through my times of need as I help them through theirs. The relationships I have are akin to that of a blind man and a mute, each relying on the other to provide what they cannot. These individuals shine brightly in my life, providing light to show the way. Somewhere along the line, however, the bad has shrouded the good in life, smothering it in a blanket of depression. My existence has been punctured by the meaningless of itself, and my motivation to go on is the substance that flows outward from the wound.  Maybe the vacation next week will help. Staying at a beach-side resort, I can allow the weight to fall from my shoulders, leaving invisible craters in the sand. Taking a step back could be just the change in perspective I need to recharge my soul. I will finally rest. I will be granted a reprieve. But is the concept of true rest genuinely achievable? After my retreat, I will inevitably be dragged headfirst back into the reality of the workforce, where I will stay until I manage to scrounge up the minimum currency required to retire. That way, I am granted the opportunity to watch myself fade from an earlier age. After retiring, my life will end in a brief, merciful manner. That, or I will slowly lose my ability to thrive, one function at a time. Time will take its toll both physically and mentally. There will always be the next thing on the path of mortality, either to look forwards to or dread. There is no end save that of death, and even that is disputable. So, why am I writing this? I am writing this because I want you to know why I'm gone. I want you to know you are not at fault, nor is anyone save myself. I am writing this because I have not lost my human sentimentality entirely, and I want to immortalize myself in some fashion. I know it is pointless even as I write. This note will be lost in the vacuum of oblivion that consumes all. A century from now, no one will remember me. The epitaph on my grave that no one will bother to read will erode. I guess what I am saying in all of this is a simple goodbye. I have no comforting parting remarks. Farewell.[/i] 

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Above is the text of a note recovered from the home of deceased Citizen #86753, who was found unresponsive by paramedics last night after overdosing on Reality. This note exemplifies the necessity of maintaining our sanity and our daily vaccinations. The year 2043 has seen great strides in the direction of global unity and peace. Still, there are those among us who inexplicably refuse to vaccinate, who refuse to shield themselves from the harmful effects of Reality. Most importantly, the incoherent note highlights the disastrous consequences of deviating from the regimen. Do not deviate.