The effects of suicide on family and friends.
Should die that day..
Believing there is a light..
I REGRET I CHOOSE TO LIVE
MY BIGGEST REGRET
The effects of suicide on family and friends.
So this is kind of a very belated response to my last post.
I wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded to it. I was in a very dark place. Still am, actually. But it helps to know that there are people who actually took the time to acknowledge someone who is quite literally facing their own mortality. I won’t say I have it as bad as other people on here, but I’ve never been an emotionally sound person to begin with, so I guess this just hit me harder than it should.
I’m still going through with the plan. I know a lot of people won’t understand this, given that I didn’t specify my reasons for setting a deadline for myself. That said, I don’t feel as scared as I did when I posted last time. I feel like the emotions have numbed. I wonder if I’ve entered the stage of acceptance yet. Or maybe I’m still in denial. Who knows? But a few things have happened in my life lately that have finalized my decision. I realized that in the real world, I’m alone. Not for lack of trying, but every time I reach out, I only seem to get hurt. Or I hurt someone else. My family doesn’t seem to want to discuss my problems, or they just make me feel like an idiot for feeling this way. I don’t know if I can fault them for that anymore. It’s not that I don’t love them, or that they don’t love me. But lately, I feel like my love has tethered me to them. It makes me feel guilty for standing up for myself with them when I probably should. It makes me ashamed for upsetting them when they themselves probably should have been more supportive and understanding. For some reason, I always end up being the bad guy. I know I’m not perfect, but it hurts when I’m left to cry on my own. I thought family was supposed to help you. I thought they were supposed to be by your side. But lately, it feels like my family members are just fairweather friends. Like I have to force a smile whenever I’m around them. Or they’ll tell me to stop being so down all the time. They don’t know I cry almost every night in bed. They don’t know most of my panic attack happen when they’re not around and I have to deal with them myself. (And when I do have a panic attack around them, they treat it more like an annoyance than anything else.) And they definitely don’t know about my plan to off myself. I’ve just grown to accept that this is my relationship with them. A complicated one that I feel guilty ending, but unhappy staying in. I wish I didn’t love them back. I wish they didn’t love me. That would make this whole thing easier. If I knew they didn’t love me, or if I didn’t love them, I probably would have ended my life a long time ago. I wish things were more black and white between us. That way, I wouldn’t be unhappy with either decision.
So, I made a compromise. I’d kill myself after I leave home. Not directly after, of course. I’d leave home, slowly drift away from my family, until they give up on trying to contact me. Then I’ll just wait until my 35th birthday when I’m supposed to off myself. I’m still not sure about the method right now. A gun would be ideal, but who knows what the political climate around gun control will be by that time. So, if that’s the case I’ll go with either hanging or jumping from a building. I’ve been trying to hold myself back on any unplanned suicidal urges. The more spontaneous the suicide, the more likely it is to fail after all. I just repeat to myself how many years I have left. Over and over. It was always oddly calming. It helped me sleep, it calms me down. It’s like a weird meditative mantra I have now. Probably not a good one, since it means I’m going to end my life, but hey. Whatever helps me sleep at night.
You know what’s weird? I’m way less emotional with the thought of ending it all than I am with anything else. Like, to give you a little behind-the-scenes information, I was crying while typing about the stuff involving my family, but I calmed down while I was writing about killing myself. That’s almost funny in a depressing kind of way.
I have been a long-time lurker on here, several years perhaps? It’s all a blur… I’ve never felt the strong desire to post, until now. A classmate took his life recently and I am still coming to terms with it. I was never particularly close to him. I mean, we were friendly, but nothing more than classmates. However, as life would have it, I started getting to know the guy a bit better a few weeks before his passing (at least the parts of him he wanted me to see and vice versa). We talked for hours. Cliche as it was, we were really warming up to each other. Break was approaching and things didn’t seem so shitty. I didn’t wanna kill myself every few minutes. The last time I spoke to him, we talked about our plans going into the New Year. Then it happened. His family had tried to get a hold of him. Cops found him. We were alerted. At first I felt a sense of betrayal, but I had to remind myself that we weren’t even close, right? I mean, I was just gettin’ to know the guy. Soon after, I felt a deep sense of envy. How had he been so goddamn brave. As someone who has carried out what I call “weak attempts”, I felt pathetic for not being successful. It started to hit me really hard the next few days. I can’t put my finger on why. I think I saw so much of myself in him. We struggled with similar issues. I kept thinking maybe this is the catalyst I needed. That extra push. I’m sure he’s at peace now. My obsession continued to grow. I constantly thought/still think about it, more than ever. I feel like my toes are wiggling over the edge and all I need to do is take that last leap of faith and I’ll be free. It’s true what they say about us suicidal folks. We don’t want to die. The thought of dying itself is not usually what we idealize, correct me if I am wrong. It’s the peace that comes with knowing it’s over. Like that last sigh of relief that you expel after a stressful event where all you do after is crawl into your bed and hope/dream that tomorrow never comes. Lemme tell ya, the pain gets heavy. I don’t know why it’s considered selfish. It’s selfish forcing someone to lug the pain around for years on end. Of course, I couldn’t tell the grief counselors this. The ones they dispensed to cover their asses. It was such a superficial charade. “We are here for you, we care!” Bologna. There’s something wrong about a school that has consistently had one suicide every year for the past several years. Incredible considering we are only a total of 400 individuals. I digress.
You also must be ‘smart’ especially in terms of knowing how to make money. And often times, that also means you also have to be opportunistic, follow the system & rules (just like everybody else), even be cunning, sly, ruthless, brash, full of tricks, greedy, selfish, ready to step on other people who are ‘weaker’ (eg: poorer, etc).
Money is everything in our modern society today, unfortunately. It’s all about money nowadays. And if you can’t beat the system, then you have to join them. Everyday you are forced to survive, or for survival. And if you’re not strong enough to follow the system/rules, then too bad, either you will lose, get left out, get sidelined, trampled, kicked in a dirt, become a loser or failure in society, or you will die because you can’t survive.
Maybe life is just not for everyone. Maybe some of us are not meant to live in this world, society, existence, or whatever it is. Maybe it’s all really random and nihilistic, ie: some will live, and some will die. Just like ants, some will survive, and some will be killed, can’t survive, got unfortunate/bad luck, and die.
Life is depressing. Society is depressing. This world is depressing. Even all this whole existence thing is just depressing, mundane/boring, very limiting, sick, pointless/meaningless (for some people who really realize it), and honestly, everything is just so stupid.
I constantly feel sad but with antidepressants somehow I manage to seem happy, but I feel sensible, I feel attacked and my parents sometimes tell me things that make me cry, and their solution to that is giving me pills and if I don’t calm down they say that I’m like that because I don’t control myself and that I’m just throwing tantrums, and then they just ignore me.
Sometimes I cut myself or hurt me, I really try to hide my lesions but sometimes they see them, and they get angry at me and say that I’m selfish that I hurt myself and that I have no consideration of them.
At the “beginning” of my depression they always told me that if I need to let things out, I could count on them, and they were with me when I cried but after sometime they just give me pills, and if I tell them what I’m feeling, or cry because I’m in disagree (I accept that I cry when they tell me something I don’t like, but is because I feel sad and I just can’t contain my tears) and say that I just cry because I’m manipulating them, and get angry.
I thought I could trust in them but now the pain is more unbearable since I don’t trust them anymore. Before I had the feeling of having them by my side, but now I feel really lonely.
What should I do? I’d appreciate any help.
I’ve managed to screw up everything good I had going and turn it all into a bunch of fucked up shit, like always. I’m shit at my job, and I accidentally fucked some shit up because I’m too fucking stupid and cowardly to ask for help. I’m too much of a coward to speak to my college advisor and schedule my classes for next semester. I’m going to fuck up my French final because I am too fucking stupid to understand which verb tense to use and I’m apparently fucking too incompetent to even understand the review. I’m too much for a close friend of mine to deal with, and I’m already so much of a burden to him. My parents don’t want me, but all the same, they want to come see me for a little while during the break. I moved 13 hours away so I could avoid them; they abused me for years, and now that I’m out of the house, they want to pretend like they care about me, and I want to crawl right back to them like the spineless attention-goblin that I am. My roommate hates me and would be significantly better off without me.
I think I’m intrinsically inferior to everyone. I’ve thought that even since before my parents started severely abusing me, so it’s not some dumb trauma thought that I should be able to dismiss. I’ve known since the beginning that I’m subhuman. I’ve never been the protagonist of my own life; at best, my most important role was as the antagonist. I’m so overwhelmingly and inherently selfish, and I hate that, so I fight as hard as I can against my nature. That’s all I’ve ever been able to do, fight against what is natural. I’ve fought for so long that I don’t even know what natural looks like anymore. It’s not even much of a decision for me to make anymore; everything has led me to this. There is no other way my life could’ve gone; this is necessary.
And that’s why I’ll be gone soon. I’ll finish finals, since I don’t want to stress anyone else out before or during finals week with my suicidal bullshit. Right after finals week, though, I’m going to find a day I don’t work and overdose and bleed out in the bathroom of the nearby gas station. My crude life is only deserving of a crude death. I’ll do my best to bleed out over the toilet so as not to make a mess for the worker. I know my suicide is selfish, but I was always selfish. All I can do is end that selfishness and try to be as kind to everyone as I can about it.
I’ve bought Christmas presents for my siblings and friend; they deserve nothing but the best, but I was never able to give them anything of quality. Hopefully they’ll be alright, but I’m too selfish to stop because of that. I’m sorry.
Ok this is my first post on this website, and it’s pretty much going to be a little bit of a rant. Nobody I know understands me, and hopefully someone online will…
Two days ago, I attempted suicide. I won’t go into detail, since I know that’s not allowed on this website. I’m a senior in high school, and two years ago my parents found out I was self-harming. I’ve been safe since then, but this year, my depression returned, worse than ever. I am well aware that I am luckier than most — I live in a two-parent, middle-class household, get straight As, etc — so really, there’s no reason for me to be depressed. Maybe it’s the stress of college applications or the impending thought of graduation, but something about this year triggered my past habits.
On Monday, I started cutting again and attempted to kill myself. Halfway through, I panicked and called the people I considered to be my best friends. They assured me I wasn’t going to die. Yesterday, I went to school and wouldn’t stop crying in any of my classes, and today I couldn’t even muster up the energy to get out of bed.
And this is the crux of my mental dilemma. I’ve seen my so-called friends (the ones who know the dark place I was in on Monday), and not once did they ask if I was ok, how I was feeling, or any such empathetic question. When I brought up my stress and depression, they immediately diverted, saying “Oh, yeah, I’m freaking out about college apps too.” My gut reaction is understanding that yes, they may be worried about looming deadlines, but neither of them attempted suicide two days ago. Is it too much to ask that they check up on me? One of my friends has had trouble getting over her ex, and I listened to her talk about him every day for almost a year. I tried to kill myself two days ago, and maybe I’m being irrational, but in my mind that warrants a little bit of compassion.
As I type this sentence, I find myself wondering if they are the problem, or if I am because I’m the “crazy” one. No matter how good things are, I always seem to find myself back in the space where I feel as if those around me are acting callously. I definitely struggle with depressive and anxiety disorders, which can impact the way I see those around me, so I don’t know if my perception is what’s messed up in this situation. At the same time, my other friends have all sensed that something is wrong and have been checking up on me. If anyone has advice, it would be much appreciated. <3
What kind of person criticizes you for finding it difficult to ask for help, emotes anger and frustration with you for not coming to them, then rejects you when you finally work up the courage to ask?
And, if you have the nerve to remind them they said you should ask, are offended that you would bring up something like that and throw it in their face to make them feel bad.
What kind of person accuses you of expressing genuine pain as a means of hurting them, instead of asking you what’s wrong?
People don’t ask for help for the same reason they don’t seek love and companionship. Rejections hurts so much more than loneliness. Having someone confirm you are, in fact, unworthy of those things.
I’m not sure how to describe this feelings, but if you’re here, is almost certain that you understand, I’ve been here since two years ago but I never took the courage to write until today that I just felt the necessity, I take antidepressants and people tell me I’m doing better, but I just feel that I have my emotions on stand by, it just doesn’t feel right.
May 15, 12:44AM
it’s a school night, i was supposed to sleep early to work on my important project, but something happened. i took 7 tablets of (?), i don’t know why i took them, shoved them down my throat and casually went to bed, after 10 minutes i felt this terrible pain in my stomach and my eyes were about to burst “it’s nothing” i said, and tried to sleep, but it only got worse so i decided to ask for help. searched the tablets name on google, “the lethal dosage could be as low as 4 tablets for a grown-up” “Do not take more than 3 (?) tablets per day or more than 5 tablets per week” Oh no.. i’m a teenager and i took.. 7, i rushed to my mum’s room trying to act as calm as i can and said “my stomach hurts, please take me to the hospital” weirdly enough she didn’t ask why, how severe is the pain, she took me without questions, you may wonder “why is it weird?” well, my mum will NEVER take me to the ER, she never did even when i was vomiting, she says it’s a waste of time and they’ll probably tell you to rest and that’s it, so for 17 years i never went to the ER with my mum, and that was the first time ever and i didn’t even tell her what i did yet. Okay so the hospital isn’t really far, it’s about 5 or 4 minutes away from where i live but with the pain i was feeling it felt like an hour and i’m not exaggerating, i was trying to hide my pain and act like it’s food poisoning or something but as time passes i was starting to lose it, when we reached the hospital i was in a pool of sweat i remember my face was shiny and my hands were sticky, but i managed to act calm but wait why are the lights off? Oh. this hospital has no emergency services today, we had to go to the other one which is 17 minutes away, i finally lost it, i started screaming in pain and hitting the car’s window with my hand, unable to breath and can’t see well, i was sweating heavily and my heart was beating so fast, it all happened in three minutes. we reached the hospital and once i stepped off the car i vomited everything i ate since 1997, i was about to spit my whole stomach out, they had to take me in with a wheelchair and took my biometrics, the nurse panicked when she saw my heart rate and my blood pressure both of them was extremely high, it was unbelievable, they rushed me to the emergency doctor, now, my mum and i are in the room and the doctor is asking me about what happened, my mum answered with what she knew so he told me it’s probably food poisoning and i’ll be okay but i decided to tell the truth, to save myself. I whispered to him what i did and he gasped “why didn’t you tell your mum?” “i can’t”, my mum angrily asked me about what happened and i didn’t answer, he sat on his chair again and told her to calm down “we will be calling the main hospital to take her by an ambulance, she has overdosed and the dose she took may be lethal due to the rates.” my mum was angry, frustrated she started yelling at me while the doctor tried to calm her down, they took me to the next room and had to put some needles and IV’s in me, my mum took my phone away and we had a fight so now, i’m about to die and my mum is mad at me, what a great thing. She called my sister telling her that she will come home a little late, the ambulance came and i started crying my eyes out while it was taking me to the hospital and i kept asking them if they will be taking me to the psych ward because they did it before and i really don’t trust them, he showed me the location and i finally calmed down. When i arrived there they rushed me in a luxurious room and put more needles and things in me, it seems like they’re using all of their machines to help me now, my mum was sitting next to me in the room and we didn’t say anything for hours while the nurses kept checking my rates and asking me about how i feel, it’s about 3AM now and i can’t sleep at all due to the high dosage i took (it had a lot of caffeine in it to keep me awake for a whole week) my mum didn’t sleep either, now, i don’t know what happened but i remember hearing a lot of voices at the same time and my weird machines going off, i slept, or in other words, i died. I didn’t know what happened next and when did i wake up but when i did i saw the relieve on everybody’s face, specially my mum’s. I hugged her and told her that i’ll never do it again, some emotional things happened and we were good. It’s around 6AM right now and i’m waiting for the psychaitrst to come so she can decide if it safe for me to get out, my mum had to take my siblings to school so she left and came with some clothes to me as i was sweating for god knows how much hours, the psychaitrst came and we talked for a bit and finally, i was able to go. We went to the mall and bought some stuff, i had to deal with a lot of things for a month afterwards, sweating, dizziness and dehydration.
i know what you’re thinking right now “wow, she’s so much stronger than me!”, well maybe not. i know you heard what i’m about to say at least a hundred times before, but hear me out.
i’m still depressed, in fact, i tried to kill myself yesterday, and i still want to do it, but what happened back in May made me feel how important i am to a lot of people and specially my dear mum. Suicide is scary, losing someone or yourself to suicide is scary, let me tell you something and it’s actually a fact based on some studies, most (if not all) of the people who committed suicide regret it at the last moment, when it’s already too late, i didn’t believe that but when i saw what happened, when i was at the hospital getting help for something i didn’t want anyone to save me from, i realised it’s true. When i had to stay two weeks in a psych ward to keep myself safe from me, i realised it’s true. It’s true, please don’t harm yourself, you deserve so much better even if you don’t see it clearly please go ask for help, there are people out there who are willing to help you, you matter, things will be so different without you and we don’t want to lose you. Maybe at some point of your life u tend to feel like suicide is an answer, but it’s never an answer for any question, any problem, anything. i don’t care if you’re weak, or strong, i don’t care about how mentally stable you are but i want you to stay alive, it’s not worth it, i’m not in the best place right now and i’ll probably be gone soon but i do know that suicide will never end the pain, it will be the worst decision to take.
I’m just bored. You know?
I knows it sounds stupid, “I want to kill myself because I am bored.”
I also know it is always more to it than that. I have a 4 year degree in psychology.
I want to get my masters, but I have to pay off the state from my previous failed attempt at a Master’s before they will release my transcript and allow me to try again. One of thousands of dollars I owe people.
That’s the thing. I fail at everything. Well, not really. I don’t fail…I quit. I am a quitter.
I just can’t do things. I can’t stick with things. Either chronic pain, anxiety, depression, feelings of inadequacy, or I just can’t leave the house.
So, what now? I see no hope for the future. The house is falling apart around our heads. I see no way to ever better myself or my situation. We can’t sell the house unless we move. We can’t move unless we sell the house. No way out. No way forward. Just stuck.
Wake up, clean, work 3 hours, stare out the window, rinse, repeat…over and over. The bills come in, I throw them away, I go to bed.
I am unfulfilled. I feel worthless. I feel like a burden. I am unhappy. I am unsatisfied. I see no way things will ever change.
I JUST DON’T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE!!!!
I stay for my husband and my daughter. I know they would be devastated if I killed myself. I love them too much to do that to them. I stay for them.
There is only the Tao. That is the source. Returning to the source is serenity. I want that.
to say i’m stressed would be an understatement.
these days have been so hectic, i feel like i can’t keep up with everything, but everyone is constantly telling me to keep up, to cheer up, to calm down, to just stop feeling stressed. mental health has been a mess lately, and today is just not working for me. sometimes i wish i caught a cold so i could rest in bed, but then i remember that even if i’m too ill to get out of bed, i’ll still have to do everything.
the problem isn’t having stuff to do, the problem is having to do things for everyone, and having to leave my things at the bottom of my list of things to do. there’s so much on my mind that i want to talk about, but everyone would most likely think i’m being annoying so i’ll keep it to myself.
i cried today while trying to turn on a fan and i haven’t eaten anything since 8am this morning, but nobody here gives a damn about that. i feel so tired, even though i sleep. it feels so crowded in my head, even though it’s just me. i don’t know what to do or how to cope, or anything honestly. who knows if i make it to December, i honestly feel like i’m going to explode soon.
i’ve felt pretty dizzy all day, and i think it’s because of stress, but i’m not sure.
anyways, i’ll shut up now.
Me and my mom never were at the best of terms, but when i told her, that i was thinking about suicide a lot recently (mostly because a lot of people in my surrounding are suicidal) and that if something should happen to them, i couldn’t take it, instead of beeing supportive as you’d expect from your mother i just hear the words “Why can’t you be normal for once, do you always have to cause such drama?” Not the best responds. I mean is it really my fault, for not wearing anything else than black, or not listening to hip hop or rap music? For not wanting to get drunk every day, chain smoking or liking romantic movies like everyone “normal” seems to like? I am sorry i want to die then 🙂
She hugged me today.
She’s hugged me twice before. On my birthday, and again, on a day when I was miserable.
But today… I wasn’t turning a year older, or falling apart inside.
She just, hugged me. For no reason. Because, she wanted to? Because she thought I would want her to?
I don’t know. But for once, there wasn’t a clear reason..
Maybe now I’ll finally be brave enough to hug her. And not feel restrained by the necessity of needing a reason.
Today you save me again
Why you always come and save me when im at my limit
Why you always give me hope and light
Why I cant let you go
Even tho I always try to forget you
Even tho I try to suppress this feeling
At the end I always end up reaching you
Sometimes you look like you dont care about me
Sometimes you chat and ask about me
You keep gping back and forth
Why we have different principal and life
But why we like each other
Why I just lke you more and more
Why you like me
And we know if we are together
Nothing good will come
Can I just have you for a night
I want to love you with all of me
Feeling you in my arms
Smiling amd holding your hands
Thank you for saving me today
Holding your hand and arm
Walking with you like couple
Can make me happy and feel calm
Before I die
I want you
Ok so I’ll try and keep this as un dramatic as possible, as I hate melodrama. I guess I’m a pretty normal girl from a pretty normal English family, but lately I’ve been feeling like I don’t want to go on and it’s tough. Anyways, when I was 15, I was probs living my best life and starting to blossom out of my awkward pre teen all girls school nerdyness into a pretty social being. That summer my dad started to get pretty ill, he’d had depression all his life. I would be a bit dramatic to my then boyfriend I guess for attention, speculating whether my dad would kill himself. And then in March the next year he actually did, which was such a shock. I guess I didn’t really know how to take it, and just kind of went on with my life. I was pretty attention seeking and angry, but was really numb inside and kind of just acted how I thought I should be. All this suppressed emotion kind of made me undesirable to be around I guess, and I lost a lot of friends around this time. I carried on with school, missing one day and managed to get all A* in my GCSEs. I hated grammar school and was pretty unsatisfied with my remaining friends, so decided to start a new school for college. Anyways, this didn’t work out and I ended up going back, feeling as though the few friends I had weren’t good enough and feeling like a social failure. For the next 2 years I became obsessed with perfection. Now don’t get me wrong, none of these feelings actually meant I was a bad person. A lot of this was internalised, and I was generally a lovely girl to those around me. I lost my best friend at the time, but she was pretty nasty to me and let me down many times. But I was completely obsessed with getting perfect grades, having the perfect body, being super sociable and an all round goddess. I think the high pressure all girls environment fuelled this to an extent, but also I felt like I had something to prove after my dad killed himself. This really showed when I spiralled into a 3 month depression after I dyed my hair black and hated it. I wouldn’t look in the mirror or leave the house. All these feelings had accumulated to a superficial trigger point. Somehow I got better and managed to get A*AA in my alevels and an unconditional offer for my favourite uni. A levels exams were absolute hell though, and I was so anxious during them I could barely function and was convinced I would fail. After my dad died, my grandparents totally filled the role. They kept me, my mum and my brother going. A month before I sat my a levels, my grandad was found having taken an overdose of sleeping pills with a suicide note. I was there when my grandma, who was in the last stages of a rare cancer found out and I was in shock that another of my close family members had died by suicide. Anyways, I helped to nurse my grieving grandma as she died, and 2 weeks after my grandad she was gone too. My family are super positive and I never really felt like I could be upset about this, because I had already ‘grieved’ for my dad so more wouldn’t be necessary. Anyway, I went to work in America all summer and had an ok time, but I never really was able to fully enjoy it because I was so insecure inside. I am super confident, attractive and friendly but for some reason I struggle to connect with others. When I got home I had a week to prepare for uni and did basically nothing but put it off in my head. I had such big expectations on it going amazing that I was scared it wouldn’t live up to what I had built in my head. I basically said I would end my life if it didn’t work out. Anyways, I got to freshers, moved in in a hurry without even saying goodbye to my mum, and went out every single night, getting way too drunk and making a bit of a tit of myself. It got to the sixth day and I was just so totally overwhelmed and desperate that I put a belt around my neck in my room, pulled hard and passed out, after calling the Samaritans about 3 times. My mum came to pick me up and we drove 4 hours home the next day. I was so ill and ashamed that I couldn’t get out of bed and slept for the next 3 days. I am now about 3 weeks past that point and feel in constant despair every day. I had put so much on uni working out that I had no plan B. I am forced to take a gap year because I am too anxious and depressed to return but I live in a small town and all of my friends are at uni. If I had planned this in advance I would have gone travelling but I have no motivation to organise anything. I feel like a failure and want to end my life every day. I am hurting so bad and I don’t know what to do.
I try to take others from the edge but
I’ve learned a lot about myself during the 6 years I’ve been away from this site and I’ve learned things that sometimes make me want to stop moving forward and instead give in to what once was a gentle craving to what is now a frequent temptation.
The more life I live the more death pulls me back.
I wanna cry for the life a version of me could’ve had but I won’t ,. I’ll cry for my parents as I should’ve done this sooner and let them live more life to themselves.
Please log in to report posts