It’s not always chariots and wild horses. Some times it’s muted speech. A text message while sitting across the same table. A simple gesture. The edges of a mouth curling. A conversation about the flaws of The Phantom Menace while watching the movie. I started thinking about suicide last week. Not my suicide, of course. But Mitchell Heisman’s suicide. Namely his 1,900 page suicide note. I heard about Heisman years ago. I downloaded his book, but never read it. Even now, I’m hesitant to read it. It did get me thinking again. Years ago, after the split, I started toying with the idea of writing a resignation letter. Not resigning from a job, but from relationships. From socializing. From romantic aspirations. The “letter” never…