That was a real stupid thing you did to your wrist, kid. If you really wanted to kill yourself, you would have run the blade lengthwise inside your forearm. Instead, you cut across the wrist and instead of dying, all you did was make a mess.
Because you’re not on the midnight train to the big sayonara, you must have failed to Google your suicide method of choice. My guess is that you really didn’t want to die. You just wanted a little bit of attention.
I got news for you, kid: not a whole lot of people really care if you check out or not. That’s the cold, hard truth about life. It goes on with or without you.
Yeah, I know you think you’ve got it tough. I ain’t gonna say that you don’t. I’d feel pretty low, too, if my pops was a three-strike loser doing life in the can and my mom was an ex-prostitute junkie with AIDS. But hey, life ain’t fair. The Man Upstairs might have dealt you some shitty cards, but it’s up to you to make the best of them.
If you’re gonna check out, go ahead and check out. Do us all a favor next time and do it right. But if you’re gonna stick around, knock it off with all the drama. Your attention whoring is costing other people time and money.