I say I’m not suicidal, but I thought about killing myself earlier today. I was waiting to get a haircut and to have my beard trimmed at the barber shop I go to. The guy in front of me had a gigantic cold sore on his upper lip.
If my barber gets anywhere near that thing with the trimmer, I’m going to kill myself, I thought.
You know, because no way could he trim my beard with that thing after, but I’d already waited like an hour and a half.
When I was growing up, almost every single friend I had came from an abusive background. Like nearly every friend that wasn’t just a school friend till I was about 14. Either straight-up physical abuse, or the kind of psychological abuse that’s like a parent scarily trying to protect their child from the outside world, but then becoming way worse a force than the outside world. I don’t know why this was. I think I sort of thought that everybody was subject to abuse except for me. I guess our big wacky house was kind of a free zone, because my mom and dad weren’t around in the way that they’d ever be all up in your shit. So we could just go ahead and climb up on the roof and smoke cigs. A regular safe haven!
I don’t, like, now retroactively think I was abused or anything. I was raised by human beings who wanted the best for me and everything but who were human beings nonetheless and were therefore susceptible to the foibles that all human beings are susceptible to. I also think they were narcissists. But I’m the one working on a thing called In the Event of My Untimely Death. For the third time. So.
Being around so many kids from rough backgrounds made it easy to dismiss any issues that I had at the time. Like it was easy to not feel entitled to emotional pain, just by comparison. Also, those kids were all kind of extra-wild and nihilistic and super dangerous and thrilling to be around.
One of my friends for example ended up stealing his stepmother’s hunter green Ford Windstar at age 14 and driving it across the state, flipping it in a chase with the police, and going to juvenile detention center for like forever. Or that's the story I heard. We had hung out the night before while his parents were out of town, and we had driven around town in the Windstar a little bit.