Three years ago, my Mum committed suicide.
A year later, so did my youngest brother.
It destroyed me.
I hated myself for not saving her, for not saving him.
I wanted to die.
I began to overdose, drink, use meth and cocaine, and slit my
Recently, I lost my first born son.
After everything, I was finally getting over losing my Mum and my
brother, and then this happened.
The night he died, I sat locked in the bathroom, knife in hand,
telling myself to do it.
One slice across my wrist made me realize I didn't want to
Killing myself wouldn't make my Mum come back, or my son.
It would only make things harder for my wife, my surviving brother,
and my best friend.
There is a life worth living, I just have to rebuild