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Friday, August 4, 2017


...many times I’d thought about ending it all.

At sixteen, a razor blade and two, deep slices to my wrists would’ve done the job—briefly painful, slow death, but most effective. 

At nineteen—when I couldn’t stomach looking at the murderous monster staring back at me in the mirror—I found the barrel of a 9mm inside my mouth, safety off, and finger on the trigger. It would’ve been messy, but the quickest way to leave the life I’d been dealt...

But one day, I walked into a gym and saw a girl.

Find out what happens next--> 

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