I’m so done with life. I’ve always felt a pain inside of me since I was a little kid. In pre school I would act different than I was because I wanted kids to like me. I was the “class clown” because it at least got attention. My dad worked out of state all the time trying to provide for us, so it was just my mom and I all the time. I begged my mom for a brother. And I got one when I was around 7 ish. And I treated him like s***. I have no idea why. Maybe because I wanted to act out. Maybe because I felt control for the first time in my life. I’m 18 now, dropped out of community college after the first semester. I’m tired. I work in a factory. I’m paying bills. I’m trying to make up for lost time with my dad, mom, my brother, and I don’t know how. The only thing I enjoy is doing things with my hands. I love working on my car. I love every one of my vehicles I’ve had. I have always done my own work if I could. It’s the one thing that keeps me here. I would roll over in my grave to know someone else is beating on my car. I totaled a car because I was high on inhalants. I used to be a binge addict in a sense, I would drink and smoke all the time, and I would love the feeling of being overwhelmed. But ever since that day, I can’t even enjoy being high or drunk. It’s weird. I remember the night so clearly. It was a few days before my 17’th birthday. I thoigh, how high can I get off this keyboard duster while driving. I used to do it all the time. I used to inhale so much I would fall to the ground, hit my head and pass out for a while and I loved it. But this time was different. I blacked out at the wheel, hit multiple trees going 75. I missed a house by inches. I kissed two wells by 5 inches. I missed going into the persons poop by a foot. I woke up and I didn’t know where I was. I was out cold for 15 minutes. I woke up and I thought I was in my driveway asleep, but it felt different. Everything was black. I thought oh maybe I messed up and I hit my rock wall. That’s not bad I can play it off. Nope. I was in the tree line blocked into my car. I had no idea what to do. I tried breaking the window but it wouldn’t shatter. I shoved the door open with my legs with all the force I could, and I barely squeezed it open. I threw the can of duster as far as I could, and come to find out it only make it about two feet from the car. I called my mom. I sent her my location. They couldn’t even find me because I was so far in the tree line. I was in the hospital for hours I told everyone I fell asleep but the cops found the van and gave it to my dad. I was in so much trouble. Luckily the cop knew my dad and knew me. Nothing came of it but I lost everything for 6 months just about. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it, it was just hell on earth. The only people I’ve ever told this to have been my parents and my therapist. Not my girlfriend. Not my brother. None of my friends. Nobody else. And now, a couple years later, I’m having memory issues, speech issues. Hearing loss. And I can’t tell anybody what happened. It’s because I blacked out for so long. Even when I came to I couldn’t see for a solid 5 minutes. I have panic attacks and I lose my mind and my train of thought for no reason. I’m so tired of being alive. I should’ve died in that crash. There’s no reason I’m alive. There’s no reason I should be alive. And yet, here I am. I’m a compulsive liar. I never tell the honest truth I always have to bend it, just because I can. Maybe it’s because I feel in control. I don’t know. But I’m a terrible person, and a terrible partner, a terrible brother, and a terrible son. I never show any emotion other than happiness as a defense mechanism. I shouldn’t be here. My girlfriend works at a job where she sits in a call center all day making the same as I do, while I sweat in the 90 degree heat all day every day. I bust my a** trying to break even with my bills. I don’t know what my life holds. I don’t know what I should do, or where to begin. I’m just tired all the time, I can’t hold emotions, I can’t even keep friends. There’s nothing left for me except for driving. Whenever I’m sad or lonely I go for a drive. I love the feeling of accelerating. I don’t necessarily like going fast, I just like accelerating. I got a speeding ticket the other night from a cop on my way hole from work. I couldn’t tell him it’s the only thing that I enjoy in life, I couldn’t tell him everything I bottled up I couldn’t even give him straight answers as to why I was speeding. I just like driving. And now I’m broke. I’m desperate. I’m working my a** off every day to try and come out of this hole and I can only attribute it to the one thing that’s set me back this far. That crash. I should’ve never done inhalants. It’s messed me up beyond repair. Please. Don’t f*** with them.
