Copyright, Jolee

My story is mild compared to some of the stories here, but I’m sure it is general and even unique. I have attempted slitting my wrist, and had done few times, but I knew I couldn’t kill myself. So I came up with more chronic and consistent self destruction; I began to smoke cigarettes and using drugs since I was 12 in the hopes of shortening my life. I would get high, smoke cigarettes and then walk on the roof. I did not fall, ever, but I’ve gotten familiarized with existentialism by keeping myself close to death, and I found other valuable philosophies as well. It is ironic, but I guess life is ironic.


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