at the age of 3 i jumped from a garage roof and broke my arm. i remember doing it for the experience. by age 15 i had broken both arms, an elbow, dislocated my shoulder, broke a wrist, another arm, been run over and got a compound fracture of my ankle. the break was so bad that my sock was sucked into the bone. i had been expelled from school, started doing drugs, and even became estranged from my family.
i remember being depressed from about 6. but it was only at 20 that i found out i was bipolar. it was not a good thing to find out. i had a job building with my uncle, and got sacked no fewer than 3 times.
i was becoming numb to my fate, and i spiralled into the void further and faster than was necessary.
many friends over the years died. i was picked on at school. i became withdrawn, thin, depressed. i even lost my house and job through drugs, my paranoia levels were through the roof, i was scruffy, and painfully tired all the time.
then, the day came, at age 25, when i tried to end it. i was sick of it a
how did it come to this?
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