I found contentment, it has taken eight decades, but who is counting.

Fifty years ago, I drove to a secluded area and proper myself up against a tree, and began writing my suicide note. Watering eyes made the writing difficult, so I did not say much. Using a razor blade I cut the skin covering my vein on my inside arm, the stinging was almost unbearable as nature made them strong. When my blood started flowing, it soaked my pants with ninety-nine-degree heat, the warmth was comforting as part of me was glad to go as I was a reached person, Alcoholic parenting and my lust for payback made me hate myself and I passed out.

I awoke in pitch-black darkness and I was extremely thirsty, I drove home and My poor wife, what a shock it must have been, she helped me undress and assisted me in getting into the bathtub. The end of the story, no, it was only the beginning. After eight decades of life, I found an adorable state of mind.



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