On top of my dad’s alcoholism, which came out of nowhere, I’ve been going through and unrepressing memories. This has led me to the realization that I was molested by the babysitter when I was three. One of my first memories was of this event. I keep looking back at different parts of my life and thinking, that makes so much more sense now. Whenever I’m about to do something dangerous (for the adrenaline rush) people always tell me I’m going to get myself killed, too which I’ve always responded with “meh, I’ve had a good life. Not a long one, but a good one.” I’m starting to think that my life has not been as good as I thought it was.