I tried to kill myself two nights ago. Not seriously, I suppose.
I got preposterously drunk and slit my wrists. But I woke up, and now I’m not so sure if I’m alive or not.
This is a test, sort of. A form of existential validation, my fingerprint against the window.
So don’t say that you love me. Don’t hold me.
I’m an alcoholic. I’m lonely as fuck. I don’t have a job. I barely have a mind.
My mum tried to drown me in the bath when I was a kid. My dad left when I was six. But I’ve never seen war, I’ve never lost a limb or […]