Part 1: Personal HistoryToday, part two on suicide. I've put it off for a long time because it's just tremendously difficult to talk about, and I still don't feel like I have my words right, and I still haven't responded to some of the best, most important comments on the last entry, but this needs to go up
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There have been days when I've had to just push through and struggle for them. There's always this assumption that there's a supportive family in place, that they love you and that you KNOW that, but when the family isn't supportive, doesn't give a damn about you and NEVER bonded to you where you have even the slightest conviction they give a fat damn whether you live or die, when something is emotionally destroying you and you go sobbing to them for help, guidance, advice, anything, and they snottily tell you to shut the hell up because they're sick of hearing about your bullshit, it's a bit difficult to truly believe they'd notice beyond the funeral that you're gone.
But the pets would know. And they'd actually care!
The very few times I've genuinely contemplated suicide, I've been very quiet about it. And if I were going to do it, I wouldn't fail.
But right now, thankfully, I'm not feeling the need.
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