I lost my job. Lost my house. My wife left me and brought our baby Jamie with her to her mother’s. I’m miserably bankrupted, miserable AND bankrupted. My life’s all shit.
When I was still a child, my father used to bring me to the playground. USED TO. But he left me and my mother to rot in a lousy house, running away from responsibility.
My mother tried to work as hard as she can to give me a good life. TRIED TO. But she died of fatigue and hunger. She always gives all the food on her plate to me. To feed me.
To make me stop crying all night. We had a dog. HAD A DOG. One day, I just found Bud’s (our dog) collar hanging in the kitchen. And I don’t know why.
I grew up so skinny with ribs already visible, my face sagging, and my eyes darkened red - a personification of malnutrition down to the bone.
And now, I’m holding a bottle of cyanide that I just stole from a nearby store. I opened the lid. But before I could pour it into my mouth, the doors busts open! Cops stormed the room.
And an old couple, my overly concerned neighbors, rushed in and shouts, “We just saved your life, son. It’ll all be alright.
” Then the cops took the poison away from me and pinned me down to the ground.
“How am I saved?!” I shouted. “You just dragged me back to hell, you imbeciles!!”
I looked them in the eye. I can see them overjoyed, thinking they were angels.