I have lived more than twice; a sane person would assume I speak of a life busting at its seams. I am not and barely eighteen years old. My 18th birthday was a week and half ago- the first time life became more than I could handle.

I slit my wrists and bled to death beneath a bridge or so I thought. Yet I came back to the same path with the faintest of memories and the heaviest sense of déjà vu toward every major decision. I thought I was crazy until the second time I got to the point that I suspect broke me enough to want to die. I assumed it had to be. My mother died. She had cancer and had been sick for a long time. Yet she never complained. Why would I keep coming back if I couldn’t make an impact?

Like having the winning numbers to the lottery or snatching that first pack of cigarettes from my mother when she was younger. I don’t know and wish I had some answers. I have never seen a white light. I never saw the creator or seen even the slightest flicker of the flames of hell. So it is enough to say for me, religion has lost all meaning. I am in familiar territory. I am a high school senior and my mother’s funeral was only a few weeks ago. The usual whispers of the death of my mother that followed me in the locker-room and cafeteria surprisingly didn’t make me uncomfortable. I lived in a harsh world that had me repeatedly attempting to kill myself before I could get out of high school. The last time I tried to take my own life was for something I will try not to think about because of embarrassment. I was looking for a shoulder to lean on. I now live with my grandmother and have never had a strong male role model in my life.

My mother never told much about my father and the different men in her life always left. They left my mother heartbroken each time. She had a heart of gold but to be fair gold or platinum couldn’t cut it. She was a diamond and most of these men maybe even my father didn’t see it.

Though in my case it is mainly mental; I dip a toe at the edge of the pool but I’m too scared to take the plunge. I never had a father. I never had a brother. I taught myself most of what I know. So is it so hard to comprehend that I am ‘strange’? Why lie? That is a lot of pitter patter bullshit. I am who I am. I am an adult and I want a black c**k. If that makes you uncomfortable don’t sweat it because it won’t be yours that I will be after. I cannot have another suicide attempt.

It is time to move on,my mother would have wanted that. I will roll the dice and persevere to grow old and fat. For now I set my eyes on a busboy at my favorite local restaurant. The fact that the busboy works there makes it my favorite. He sadly has an all black uniform and he never seems to stand still. Regardless I like everything I see and I bet he has a horse c**k. Getting up to leave after paying the bill sneaking one more glance at the busboy’s ass as he walks by my table. I hope he will be my first.