Bill Zeller, a Princeton Ph.Dcandidate and renowned internet programmer, died Wednesday from injuriessustained in a suicide attempt. He was 27.

Zeller stunned the programming community with a4,000-word suicide note detailing a childhood of physical and sexual abuse,which he had never before disclosed to anyone.

"I've never been able to stop thinkingabout what happened to me and this hampered my social interactions," Zellerwrote. "... I wondered what it would be like to take [sic] to other peoplewithout what happened constantly on my mind, and I wondered if other people hadsimilar experiences that they were better able to mask."

According to the Daily Princetonian, Zeller posted the note on hiswebsite and e-mailed it to friends before taking his own life. The note in fullcan be seen below.

Zeller was a programmingwhiz kid, responsible for creating applications such as Graph Your Inbox, whichvisualizes Gmail use over time, and myTunes which enablesusers to download others' iTunes music. Zeller made the latter program while anundergraduate at Trinity College.

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Zellers Letter

I have the urge to declare my sanity and justify my actions, but I assume I'll never be able to convince anyone that this was the right decision. Maybe it's true that anyonewho does this is insane by definition, but I can at least explain my reasoning.I considered not writing any of this because of how personal it is, but I liketying up loose ends and don't want people to wonder why I did this. Since I'venever spoken to anyone about what happened to me, people would likely draw the wrong conclusions.

My first memories as achild are of being raped, repeatedly. This has affected every aspect of mylife. This darkness, which is the only way I can describe it, has followed melike a fog, but at times intensified and overwhelmed me, usually triggered by adistinct situation. In kindergarten I couldn't use the bathroom and would standpetrified whenever I needed to, which started a trend of awkward and unexplained social behavior. The damage that was done to my body still preventsme from using the bathroom normally, but now it's less of a physical impedimentthan a daily reminder of what was done to me.

This darkness followed me as I grew up. I remember spending hours playing with legos, having my world consist of me and a box of cold, plastic blocks. Just waiting for everything toend. It's the same thing I do now, but instead of legos it's surfing the web or reading or listening to a baseball game. Most of my life has been spent feelingdead inside, waiting for my body to catch up.

At times growing up Iwould feel inconsolable rage, but I never connected this to what happened until puberty. I was able to keep the darkness at bay for a few hours at a time by doing things that required intense concentration, but it would always comeback. Programming appealed to me for this reason. I was never particularly fond of computers or mathematically inclined, but the temporary peace it would provide was like a drug. But the darkness always returned and built upsomething like a tolerance, because programming has become less and less of are fuge.

The darkness is withme nearly every time I wake up. I feel like a grime is covering me. I feel likeI'm trapped in a contimated body that no amount of washing will clean. WheneverI think about what happened I feel manic and itchy and can't concentrate onanything else. It manifests itself in hours of eating or staying up for days ata time or sleeping for sixteen hours straight or week long programming bingesor constantly going to the gym. I'm exhausted from feeling like this every hourof every day.

Three to four nights aweek I have nightmares about what happened. It makes me avoid sleep and constantly tired, because sleeping with what feels like hours of nightmares is not restful. I wake up sweaty and furious. I'm reminded every morning of what was done to me and the control it has over my life.

I've never been ableto stop thinking about what happened to me and this hampered my social interactions. I would be angry and lost in thought and then be interrupted bysomeone saying "Hi" or making small talk, unable to understand why Iseemed cold and distant. I walked around, viewing the outside world from adistant portal behind my eyes, unable to perform normal human niceties. Iwondered what it would be like to take to other people without what happened constantly on my mind, and I wondered if other people had similar experiences that they were better able to mask.