Through separation and divorce I have lost everything other than court appointed contact with my family: the ex-wife/best friend, my son, my 2 dogs. It feels like the work I’ve done to try and make this all come together as a family was for nothing. And it was.
Two weeks ago, I shot .375 grams of pure crystal meth into my arm and gave myself tachycardia but died slowly enough for the doctors to save me.
Monday, my legal benzo analogues came in the mail. They’re like xanax on steroids. I took a couple handfuls (that stopped my heart) and then woke up today with no memory of Tuesday, and found myself freezing my ass off in an orange inmate jumpsuit. I apparently escaped from the hospital by pulling out their needles and iv lines. Then ran until the pigs tackled me and gave me a public intoxication ticket along with a free night’s stay in their plush accommodations.
I hate cops.
All things considered, I am an honest man. I used to be against parental suicide, but now realize that it’s not black and white. My suicide, in time, will prove that life is not worth living unless you’re special, talented, or good looking. Life is for the living.
I’ll post the final draft in case there’s anything anyone thinks I should add.