On a cold day in January I tried to kill myself. I was 16. I sat at my kitchen table and poured out a bottle of Tylenol, or maybe Advil, I don’t think we had Advil in 1984 so it must have been Tylenol. I sat at my yellow formica kitchen table, fluorescent bulbs flickering overhead, and swallowed one pill at a time.
I failed my permit test and it was an unbearable shame. I was a failure. I was a piece of shit and…
