I was 13 when I first tried to kill myself. The orphaned son of a dead drug dealer and an incarcerated illiterate, I grew up knowing nothing but neglect and abuse. I was on my third foster home in nine months when I first tried. Wolfing down a handful of Tylenol, I had no idea what I was doing.  I survived this attempt, but only after spending 72 hours in a locked psychiatric facility. A locked psychiatric facility that was about as therapeutic as a supermax prison. But after three days of being force fed antipsychotics and raw-raw bullshit, I was released and kicked to the curb with little more than some cool new grippy socks. I would go on to repeat this process…

I was 13 when I first tried to kill myself. The orphaned son of a dead drug dealer and an incarcerated illiterate, I grew up knowing nothing but neglect and abuse. I was on my third foster home in nine months when I first tried. Wolfing down a handful of Tylenol, I had no idea what I was doing.  I survived this attempt, but only after spending 72 hours in a locked psychiatric facility. A locked psychiatric facility that was about as therapeutic as a supermax prison. But after three days of being force fed antipsychotics and raw-raw bullshit, I was released and kicked to the curb with little more than some cool new grippy socks. I would go on to repeat this process…

I was 13 when I first tried to kill myself. The orphaned son of a dead drug dealer and an incarcerated illiterate, I grew up knowing nothing but neglect and abuse. I was on my third foster home in nine months when I first tried. Wolfing down a handful of Tylenol, I had no idea what I was doing.  I survived this attempt, but only after spending 72 hours in a locked psychiatric facility. A locked psychiatric facility that was about as therapeutic as a supermax prison. But after three days of being force fed antipsychotics and raw-raw bullshit, I was released and kicked to the curb with little more than some cool new grippy socks. I would go on to repeat this process…