CHAPTER 3
I’m like a time bomb these days. I really am. Like I can feel the next crash creeping up on me centimeter by deadly centimeter. I look back and think about those days when I was happy, those days when Chris and I would stay up until one or two in the morning, working on the school paper, laughing at our stupid typos, talking about all our plans for college and beyond. That’s the worst of it. I can remember when I actually felt like a person. A person with a life to live. A reason to exist.
At least the suicidal side of it is gone. I know it’s no reason to boast, but I never actually made an attempt, even when things were at their worst. Through it all, I’ve maintained a shred of my dignity. The irony is the only reason I didn’t try to kill myself was because I was too tired to
