I know I have nothing to be sad over, and I should take care of myself, but screw that cause it’ll never happen right now. Either way, if anyone cares to read this, as you can see, I survived my suicide attempt. It turns out that the bridge I jumped off made me land in about five feet of piled, sand-soaked snow, which, although nearly bruising my ribs and other bones, my stupidly strong frame lived through. Yay. So, I’m alive.
But I do regret jumping.