Just now getting the chance to read your comments and they were very very beneficial to my circumstances, I feel that I need to do it for some reason. I guess to prove a point that just resulted in me throwing up in two of my classes. This website has been a safety net for me since I first found it, even though I just started posting on it. Ive been up here for a while, just lurking in the shadows but it feels like I actuallly have a voice and people take the time to listen to what I have to say. Even though the odds of us all meeting are very much slim, I consider you my family. You take the time to reach out to each other and to try understanding what the person next to you is going through. If only people in the real world were actually like this instead of just through an computer screen or phone screen. I love you all.
I’m pulling the plug in 9 days and to be honest, not entirely regretting it. This is the first time I’ve had control over anything and it’s nice. I mean, it sucks, but in the end, maybe this is for the best. For me. For everyone . Because this is not a disease. This is a result of just not feeling anything but pain. Pain that no one should have to endure.
I searched for 6 years for someone who cared. It took me maybe a month to drive her away. If I could just have one thing before I die, I just want to hear her voice one more time. The light that I put out for good. Why is it that I have to deal with is? I feel numb I can’t come to life I feel like I’m frozen in time living in a world so cold wasting away living in a shell with no soul. Counting the days since you’ve gone away from me. I’m too young to lose my soul, I’m too young to feel this old. I’m so alone I’m left behind I feel like I’m losing my mind. (World So Cold – TDG) I will get what I deserve and leave everyone alone once and for all. Perfect, now it is just a waiting game. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.
These sharp edges gushing blood
this is all I have to give
these little lines
for all to see
they see pink
they see scabs
they see this wretched
in this world to succeed and die
I hold this life in these hands
that pierce something squishy something warm
something that shines
a colorful red
marks the skin
and betrays your mouth
of beautiful words that’s all lies
so they don’t see that you aren’t well.
Live fast, die young, and leave a good lookin corpse. That’s the way we always lived our lives growing up, some of us succeeded, some of us ( like myself ) didn’t. Oh I lived fast, ( still am ) but I didn’t die young, and let’s face it, the GOOD lookin corpse things went right out the window years ago. I grew up and still live in Detroit. Growing up we didn’t have anything but that didn’t matter cause we really didn’t need anything, hell there was no such thing as cable, or video games, we had hot wheels, the girls had their Barbie’s , and our imagination. But from a early age I’ve experienced death, kids in grade school, friends in high school, the first time I witnessed a death first hand I was 15 and came out of the pool hall and some guy stared at me and a friend of mine and then proceeded to pull out a gun and gave himself a new set of holes in his head, and as a few of you know here I ride with a M/ C so I’ve seen more than my share of friends die in the Biker world, starting in 2001 until present I have lost my wife, my father, my mother, two really close cousins, my son, a friend of the family that I raised as a son, a granddaughter, a nephew to heroin overdose in my home, and just recently a grandson. So like I said I’ve always dealt with death differently than everybody else, almost to the point of being cold to it , or to be quite honest, un- phased by it. But now I’m alone most of the time, unless I am out runnin and partyin. And all of these things are coming back to me now, almost teasing me, I swear I see things in the dark, or I think I hear something, but nothing is there. I’m not afraid of anything as far as I’m concerned the only permanent thing you could do to me is kill me, and I’m not afraid to die. But it does bother me in the sense that it’s happening now, now that I’ve lost everything including my job, and my home. I haven’t been the best person in the world but I’m far from the worst. Am I being punished for something I did a long time ago ??? And if so why not everything all at once, why spread it out over a 15 year span ultimately ending with me losing everything including my pride ??? I’m just venting again causing writing down my thoughts and the questions that I have at any given time and being able to read through it is well therapeutic to me in a sense. But I think I’m now.
I’ve been lurking on this sight for months now: but just recently made an account. I’m not sure if I waited so long because I was nervous about posting or because I didn’t want to push my problems onto others. But anyways, I guess now is a good a time as any. A little background before I get into what I really want to talk about, my dad was a very abusive drunk and mother left us relatively young due to a substance abuse problem. I was always looking for a way out, a way to find some normalcy in my life. Eventually I found it, it was oddly enough in a girl. I was young, maybe 14 (currently 18) but she changed my perspective on the world. She gave me this infinite desire to live; took me away from all the thoughts of suicide and depression. She was a truly amazing person. We dated for a long time. But one day, something happened to change this fun loving, bubbly girl with the long bangs and deep blue eyes.. One night changed her forever, she cut her bangs short, her eyes became empty, laugh no longer sincere. Her father molested her . I couldn’t give her the healing she gave me. I failed her. Then I lost her. But recently, after a couple years, we reconnected. We had talked a few times over that time span, but not like we have over the past couple weeks. I worry, I never quite got over her. I don’t want to lose her all over again. I don’t think I’d be able to take that mentally. But I also can’t just let the chance slip through my finger tips.. Sorry for spelling or grammar errors, it’s late and in not motivated enough to read this over.
Maybe there is somebody who has the same problem or knows, what to do in a situation like this.
I think you don’t know me and my last posts. So I don’t want to talkt too much, I was abused by my dad. It’s for 5 years now, maybe 4 oder 6 I’m not sure. I was too young, to understand, what and why he does something like that. I thought it is normal and every dad would does that. Now I know, what he did and still does but I don’t know why.
It’s 2-3 times in the week and sometimes I think he forgot it and than I know, he doesn’t.
I’m not sure, what to do. I’m not sure, if I want to do something.
I just know, that I don’t know anything.
Hello All –
Sorry I’ve been away for a while.
I just have been dealing with the recent loss of a truly dear friend and member of one of the groups I volunteer at.
She is deeply and terribly missed by all of us left behind and not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about her. “If only…” thoughts plague my mind and tug down my heart, and as much as I understand that she is now free, that she’s now relieved of all her problems, DAMN IT THIS HURTS SO MUCH..!!!
I don’t know if to think she was too young to give up, or too brave for her age to have decided about her life…
Here’s to you “Mi Chiquita” (My Tiny One”)…
He finds himself sitting in the neighborhood bar drinking a beer at about the same time that he began to think about going there for one. In fact, he has finished it. Perhaps he’ll have a second one, he thinks, as he downs it and asks for a third. There is a young woman sitting not far from him who is not exactly good-looking but good-looking enough, and probably good in bed, as indeed she is. Did he finish his beer? Can’t remember. What really matters is: Did he enjoy his orgasm? Or even have one? This he is wondering on his way home through the foggy night streets from the young woman’s apartment. Which was full of Kewpie dolls, the sort won at carnivals, and they made a date, as he recalls, to go to one. Where she wins another—she has a knack for it. Whereupon they’re in her apartment again, taking their clothes off, she excitedly cuddling her new doll in a bed heaped with them. He can’t remember when he last slept, and he’s no longer sure, as he staggers through the night streets, still foggy, where his own apartment is, his orgasm, if he had one, already fading from memory. Maybe he should take her back to the carnival, he thinks, where she wins another Kewpie doll (this is at least their second date, maybe their fourth), and this time they go for a romantic nightcap at the bar where they first met. Where a brawny dude starts hassling her. He intervenes and she turns up at his hospital bed, bringing him one of her Kewpie dolls to keep him company. Which is her way of expressing the bond between them, or so he supposes, as he leaves the hospital on crutches, uncertain what part of town he is in. Or what part of the year. He decides that it’s time to call the affair off—she’s driving him crazy—but then the brawny dude turns up at their wedding and apologizes for the pounding he gave him. He didn’t realize, he says, how serious they were. The guy’s wedding present is a gift certificate for two free drinks at the bar where they met and a pair of white satin ribbons for his crutches. During the ceremony, they both carry Kewpie dolls that probably have some barely hidden significance, and indeed do. The child she bears him, his or another’s, reminds him, as if he needed reminding, that time is fast moving on. He has responsibilities now and he decides to check whether he still has the job that he had when he first met her. He does. His absence, if he has been absent, is not remarked on, but he is not congratulated on his marriage, either, no doubt because—it comes back to him now—before he met his wife he was engaged to one of his colleagues and their co-workers had already thrown them an engagement party, so they must resent the money they spent on gifts. It’s embarrassing and the atmosphere is somewhat hostile, but he has a child in kindergarten and another on the way, so what can he do? Well, he still hasn’t cashed in the gift certificate, so, for one thing, what the hell, he can go for a beer, two, in fact, and he can afford a third. There’s a young woman sitting near him who looks like she’s probably good in bed, but she’s not his wife and he has no desire to commit adultery, or so he tells himself, as he sits on the edge of her bed with his pants around his ankles. Is he taking them off or putting them on? He’s not sure, but now he pulls them on and limps home, having left his beribboned crutches somewhere. On arrival, he finds all the Kewpie dolls, which were put on a shelf when the babies started coming, now scattered about the apartment, beheaded and with their limbs amputated. One of the babies is crying, so, while he warms up a bottle of milk on the stove, he goes into its room to give it a pacifier and discovers a note from his wife pinned to its pajamas, which says that she has gone off to the hospital to have another baby and she’d better not find him here when she gets back, because if she does she’ll kill him. He believes her, so he’s soon out on the streets again, wondering if he ever gave that bottle to the baby, or if it’s still boiling away on the stove. He passes the old neighborhood bar and is tempted but decides that he has had enough trouble for one lifetime and is about to walk on when he is stopped by that hulk who beat him up and who now gives him a cigar because he’s just become a father and drags him into the bar for a celebratory drink, or, rather, several, he has lost count. The celebrations are already over, however, and the new father, who has married the same woman who threw him out, is crying in his beer about the miseries of married life and congratulating him on being well out of it, a lucky man. But he doesn’t feel lucky, especially when he sees a young woman sitting near them who looks like she’s probably good in bed and decides to suggest that they go to her place, but too late—she’s already out the door with the guy who beat him up and stole his wife. So he has another beer, wondering where he’s supposed to live now, and realizing—it’s the bartender who so remarks while offering him another on the house—that life is short and brutal and before he knows it he’ll be dead. He’s right. After a few more beers and orgasms, some vaguely remembered, most not, one of his sons, now a racecar driver and the president of the company he used to work for, comes to visit him on his deathbed and, apologizing for arriving so late (I went for a beer, Dad, things happened), says he’s going to miss him but it’s probably for the best. For the best what? he asks, but his son is gone, if he was ever there in the first place. Well . . . you know . . . life, he says to the nurse who has come to pull the sheet over his face and wheel him away.
I read a lot of posts by people who seem to be in their early years (teens, 20’s) and it makes me feel sad that so many young people feel so hopeless. I understand though – I reached that point too when I was in college, and if not for a quick-thinking friend who grabbed my shirt I would have “fallen” out a 19th story dorm window. That was in 1983.
But once I was past college and on my own two feet I’ve lead an OK life, so I’m glad I didn’t kill myself back then. I got to experience life on my own terms. Sometimes I would get mildly depressed but I’d snap out of it. I had 30 good years before I took another turn for the worse because of several concurrent events of loss and death in 2014. My PTSD, severe depression and anxiety is not just over my friend MC, but also because my parents have died, my only sibling is estranged from me so I have no family, I lost my job and career, and my marriage has taken a very sad downturn. I’m lonely, jobless, have few friends, and unhappy. I have many days when I want to end it all. At night before bedtime I pray not to wake up.
I think back over my life from 1983 to now. Many good, unexpected things happened during those years. OK, so I currently lost my career due to stress and burnout, but I had 23 marvelous years with amazing co-workers in an organization I wanted to work at since I was a child. When I was in my 20’s I never expected to work there but I did. When I get mentally better I can possibly go back – they liked me. OK, so right now my marriage is in sad decline (rut?) and we’re both tired and unhappy, but we’ve been together over 20 years, we still have a few good times and we still love each other. When I was in my 20’s I never expected to marry, but I did (at age 33). OK, I can’t bring my parents or family back, but I’ve tried to make new friends and form relationships to fill in that gap, MC included. I’ve lost him, but I’ll never give up hope that he may return… because we never know what tomorrow will bring.
We never know what tomorrow will bring.
Maybe it’s more of the same (ugh!). OK, then we ride it through another day and we tell ourselves that just as good times don’t last, bad times don’t either. Every day brings you closer to graduating school, finding a new job, moving to a new home or even new city, meeting new friends, or maybe completely reinventing yourself.
Because the only constant in life is the sun rising and setting.
So please young people, realize that you have so much more ahead of you and a lot of it will be good. What you have experienced so far (childhood, teens, school, etc.) is NOT what adulthood is like. Adulthood does have challenges, and there is still stress, pain, loneliness, etc. but you have more control, options and resources on how you choose to deal with them. With age comes empowerment.
Give tomorrow a chance, and see what it brings.
When people are suicidal, their thinking is paralyzed, their options appear spare or nonexistent, their mood is despairing, and hopelessness permeates their entire mental domain. The future cannot be separated from the present, and the present is painful beyond solace. ‘This is my last experiment,’ wrote a young chemist in his suicide note. ‘If there is any eternal torment worse than mine I’ll have to be shown.
I don’t understand how someone with so much love in their heart can kill someone so young. I don’t get it.
But I have a question for all of you:
If you have had a family member or a friend or lover that was a murderer, do you still love them, or hate them for the crime they have committed? Or do you hate the crime they committed and still love them? I would like to know. I know it is personal, but I am at a loss for words at what has happened and need to know I am not the only one who feels the same, because I still love this guy, he’s my best friend, I just hate what they have done, and am sad that they’ll probably be put to death and die alone in a cold chair by injection, or suffer in a cell. I know that it is best that they get the sentence they get (I don’t know what they’ll be given yet) but I am sad for the family he destroyed and the fact that he destroyed my heart and his other friends by doing this.
So I ask if any of you have gone through this? I
have no idea how to deal with this.
I learned how to manipulate my own emotions when I was really young, and to comfort myself I deliberately attached importance to an object or a person. Convinced myself that each time I saw that thing I would be comforted. It works for me, especially if the object is a trustworthy person who will understand if I get too clingy.
There’s relief when I’m with him, real, intense relief. But in his absence I feel restless, sad. I miss having friends to lean on. I think I’ve driven them all away.
My entire life is a nightmare. I didn’t think things could get any worse but they did, they can always get worse. I have no hope for a future. It would only consist of anxiety and loneliness, of being haunted by what my has been so far. I can’t do that, I just can’t. I’m 29 years old and I have given up. I feel too old to start over, too old to have the life I’ve always wanted. Because it’s too late now. I’m too young to be close to death, too young to have the health problems take over and kill me.
I’ve thought about suicide for years. I’ve had plans and letters written and came so close to just ending things a few times, but I could never do it. And I still don’t know if I would be brave enough to take the final step but the reason I could never do it was because I was scared of death and dying. After tons of soul searching and questioning I’m not afraid of dying anymore. Either I go to a better place, or there is nothing. If there is nothing, if we just die and our souls and consciousness and memories die with us and we have no awareness of it, then it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re gone and we’re done. There’s no reason to fear that, it would be preferable to the pain and torture I go through everyday in life.
I don’t want to make it to the end of this year. I want something to happen to me, I get sick or killed somehow. I don’t want to be the one to cause my own death, because of my family. I’d rather some freak accident happen or something. But I have a plan in place for if I can’t bear another day, I will do it myself if need be.
I’m just glad I’m not scared anymore. Whatever is on the other side of this world is peace, in some kind of form. That’s all I want, is peace.
I understand that many people have it worse, but I feel hopeless. I’m young, too young for my experiences, but on the cusp of adulthood. I’m supposed to be planning for my future, but all I can plan for is a way to make it through the day.
My mother is bipolar, my father is dead, my sister is severely OCD, my half-sister is a manic-depressive bipolar manic paranoid hallucinogenic schizophrenic alcoholic with severe and violent anger problems. Her two children, as well as all the others listed, live in the same household as me.
Of course with all of these illnesses in bound to have some sort of problem, right? I’m destined for it. And it’s true. I’m depressed and slightly suicidal. Also I’m one hell of a procrastinator. Oh did I mention I’m at a boarding school? In some ways, it is better for me. I’m the weakest in the family besides my niece and nephew-who my half-sister thankfully doesn’t go after-so I’m usually her target. In others, it’s awful. I miss my home, no matter how difficult it is there. Sometimes I become so overcome with sadness and anxiety I can’t finish school work which leads to bad grades which leads to anxiety and the circle continues.
This entry really has no point looking back, but has made me slightly sleepy. Hopefully I can fall asleep tonight.
Hey guys. I realised something. I am young, so young. I am going to turn 20 on the 26th december. I have decided to let go all of my theories of atheism/creation and blah blah and do what makes me feel alive- Boxing and gym. I am also good looking an have nice muscles lel. I hope you find peace in this life, I am going to find it by boxing and gym and high protein diet like I use to do, I also recommend sport for you too. By making sport and having a well based diet you can overcome any problem . I will try to think positive and train as hard as I can. I will never enter this site again because it makes me feel depressed 🙁
Good bye and I love you all! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PswCgzZCWP8
I AM GOING TO BE SHREDDED AS FUCK CUNTS! ZYZZZZ FUARKKK!
i just was surfing YouTube and came across this . This just made me cry my eyes out and I really don’t even know why. I think I can’t relate my story and life to hers . I wasn’t in foster care and my parents didn’t beat me , but I was alone . My dad took me away from my mom when I was young because she was an addict . I remember when I would visit her I would find spoons and needles and pills all over the house . She was killing her self with these drugs. I saw what was once my beautiful mother slowly turning into nothing . I saw this at such a young age . I knew way more than most kids my age , which is why I grew up so quickly. I never had a mom. I had a dad , but he never really talked to me. I’ve been alone since I was a child. I always played by my self . I only trusted my self. I wanted to be loved . I still do . I wish I had a mom so I could cry in her arms and tell me it’s alright , but instead I lay in my bed and cry silently so no one can hear me . I’m so ashamed of my life and my past . Even my present . My past is something I can never let go of or get over. I really hate when people tell me life has great things to offer me and that some day things will be alright . It will never be alright . The things I’ve seen, no person should see. It’s fucked my head up. I wish I had a normal child’s life … Where a mother teachers her how to ride a bike, takes her to dance classes, bakes cakes with eachother. I did none of this . I remember calling 911 when I was 5 because my mom caught the kitchen on fire because she was so out of it. When she died no one really told me about her or her life . I have no pictures . I don’t even know who she was . I don’t know what my dad is like . I live with him but I don’t know him . My life is so sad . I wish I could plug my brain into all of yours and show you the pain and sadness I feel every waking moment of my life .
I can never change what happened. This will be with me forever . And forever seems to long…
I want to die so badly. I want to be a asleep forever. Sometimes this pain feels like it will be eternity . And my thoughts never stop. I don’t know how I’ll live through this . I find my self becoming worse every day. I’m so afraid to die though . I don’t find any reason to why I should still be here . I don’t have friends really , no one loves me . I’m so alone through all of this.
I always have flashbacks of my past . I feel like my depression has erased some but I remember most. It makes me angry.
I feel like I have a pathetic life. I’m always embarrassed to talk about it to others . People think I’m troubled. I’m not a bad person. I am smart and go to school. I’m just sad . Sad is not even a good word to describe how I feel…
Today is so horrible .
I grown into a young man, full of youth, enjoyment and had such a persona that I had the ability of standing out among a bunch of people, yes i was eccentric.
During my time of studies something happened to me that would last its mark to the rest of my life. I spent months in fear, months; in asking the question that why it happened to me the way i did, but there was no answer. My brain activated a survival response and i fell in love with fear, itself.
She was in my class. She was as fine and lovable as an Angel, i wanted to befriend her; but even before having started a proper conversation, “It happened”, after which, (I believed) “she will never see me as a human being let alone a class fellow or a friend”. In order to cope with my infatuation and fixation for her, i did several make-believe things to be true about her. At first i tried a make belief hate, i was still a child at heart. yeah. It didn’t work out well; I tried a make-belief disgust, tried convincing myself that she did wrong to me., but i was a fool to fight myself. Just seeing her would make my eyes filled with tears; as I knew that she went too far away that day and that “i will never be able to reach out to her”.
But somehow, i managed to deceive myself long enough to complete my studies. With my second last semester, comes the anxiety of not being able to see her again. It eaten me out, inside and outside. I tried drugs but instead of making me forget they helped in concentrating my thinking, each and every one of them, so I proposed her. The wise would say I was a fool to rush-in, well there was not enough time left and i wanted to make myself believe on me being impure and imperfect enough for her. I welcomed her rejection, although she took two days to let me know, of which i was not able to understand, that why she took two days; may be she didn’t wanted to hurt me as badly, as she did four years ago, that contributed heavily to make my personality of what I am today. She was never aware of that, nor she was interested, but I ended up in being a friend. I was happy in that, as if I’ve known that all along that she is just too perfect for me and I with all my follies and conditions i would never be able to open myself in front of her; if she would have accepted; if things were in my favor, since the beginning; even then, the fear of letting know who i truly am from the inside, with all my impurities and imperfections and mental conditions; in fact I was happy that she rejected me, otherwise her life would be a living hell.
Fate gave me one last chance, she was there standing right in front of me, vulnerable; and I thought to myself and in the light-speed I came to the conclusion; “Don’t worry; i will definitely help you in whatever possible way i can, to help you complete your degree”, and said to myself, “She needs a friend, so be a friend that the likes of which have never walked this earth before.”. This was my honor and for my worship for her.
“Why, haven’t i made you my sister-friend, to begin with; it would have been much easier on my heart”, I thought to myself, just too loudly, she smiled, and i glanced at that smile for the very first time in my life. Seeing her smile, made me smile from my heart and soul, and I prayed “Please God, don;t let this smile fade away, before me, I would love to die before her time, thanks, Sincerely, RT”
I was just too happy, she finally got passed in her exams, and was getting married. She wanted to invite me, but I refused to come, as I was not worthy to be standing with her “actual friend’s”. If i only have known the “rebound”, my condition would give me after a decade, i would have gone to the wedding, met with her sister, when she wanted her to meet me. I bought a gift for her marriage, a truly worthy one, i have been saving money for 6 months to buy the gift for her wedding, “You know she will never keep it”, I was telling myself, “Yes, my duty is to give the gift, to keep or not to keep, is her choice, just like my heart, I am the giver, only”, i truly worshiped her, longed as if she was a broken peace out of my own soul. If only i have known earlier about the rebound, I would have met with her brother, I would have introduced myself to him as her friend, instead of a courier boy, delivering the gift to her house.
In this world, the love and giving away heart has been associated with so many things that are just plainly wrong. Even thinking of having married to her, and the things the comes with the marriage, made me feel impure, made me feel that a physical relation would mean the impurity of my love and affection of my connection. My connection was not of the body, was not for the pleasures, such a connection has only only conclusion, the never-ending yearning.
Letting go was so easy, that i cried with joy on the date of her marriage. That’s why calling her “sister” was the easiest thing of my life, as the connection in this world requires a naming; and I knew that this connection will not just stop here, it is beyond this world, beyond understanding of ordinary human. My love was pious, pure and innocent as a child. She was my test, and I had no choice but to come out victorious, not by “getting” her, but letting her go. The memory of her sweat smile is the only treasure that i have in this world, while seeing her smiling, i knew that my “infatuation”, my”fixation”, is not about “getting”; It was (as if) divine. I never saw her closely, never made with her an eye contact, but i have always known that, I was bound to fell for her, this divine feeling of love was not by choice. It was a test, of my connection, that how deep the real connection would go; and i have known that with physical contact, even by looking, the purity of connection would get disturbed. This test, took away a lot of things from me, but eventually gave me a satisfaction that, the love never halts, it goes beyond this worldly affairs, this physical interaction, to the next phase, to the link of souls; and that was not a make-up belief.
After a decade, I never knew that, my caring would be taken as a wrongful. It was a rebound, while i was honest, why this happened to me after such along time, since even before her marriage, i have given my care for her the name of “Brother-hood”, and I showed care for her like a brother would do, why everyone was so keen to mark my intentions as being ill. But, I know that no matter what happens, she knows it. Even if she does not talk to me, she knows it, that I am honest and truthful to her, at least; even if only i was able to feel the soul-link, even if this connection was one-sided.
“But I will wait for her return, to accept me even just as the person, whom she knew a decade ago, her smile, that i saw a decade ago, is the only light i can think of in this darkness and i yearn to look at it once more”, as I often say to myself.
This rebound, what she said to me and what I replied in return and did in my condition is all material, and was necessary to make the people believe on the piousness of the connection, people, who are just too impure to understand the connection.
Such is and always have been the fate of the pure, innocent, honest and divine love, in this world full of filth.
[Sorry for spelling/grammer mistakes, if any, i just don’t have the heart to go back and read it all over, and my eyes are just filled with so much tears that I am just unable to read anything]
Im 30 years old and have realized my mental problems started at a young age. Now being married for almost 10 years with 2 kids i feel like i cant go on anymore. Im socially irresponsable. Cant hold a job down. Have no savings and just down right a sorry excuse for a human in every aspect of the phrase. Ive cut off pretty much every relationship ive ever had with anyone because i got tired of letting people down. Ive been a manipulator since being malested by a neighbor at age 7 and never speaking up about it. Ive contiplated this for some time now and feel the time has come. Im a bad father, son, husband, employee and just a bad person all around.