If you get this, I think you're awesome and I trust you enough to send it.

I had to write something in English class based on a picture and this is it. Nobody has ever read this before, I was excused from reading it out, and my teacher said if I didn't want him to read it, he wasn't going to. As you can tell, I was exceptionally depressed in that English lesson. Also I wasn't writing at my best then. So here it is...

Chapter 1


I stared at my hands, wondering, thinking, brooding. All the memories contained in those hands, my hands. A wedding ring. A baby. A suicide note. The same baby's hand at her mother's funeral. Hundreds of glasses of whisky. An eviction notice. Slapping, punching. The same baby's (now a teenager) suicide note. A hotel key. A gun receipt. A pen and paper; my suicide note. I had no one, no one left to love or live for. Only the darkness, the numbness that was consuming me from the inside. I looked at the empty whisky glass and sighed. The substance (damn it, why was I thinking about this?) that had last me my job, wife, house and finally my daughter. I looked at my arms. Years of self harm scars. All over. Back at the pen and paper... No use writing a note. Who would read it? The police could guess without a note. I crumpled the paper and discarded it and the pen. I picked up the gun, lifted oit to my temple and---



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