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But I couldn’t escape the idea that suicide would be a good escape. It was like I was holding on the casket of my wife, and as morbid as it sounds was like I was being buried. I remember picturing myself breaking my grip with...
I just started squalling and laughing and carrying on like a crazy woman. It was like a bolt of lightening hit me in the head.
I remember of walking on a bridge in New York City, hearing an evil presence. As I looked over the edge of the bridge I heard a voice say, “Jump. It’ll be all over.”
It became a vicious cycle of doing cocaine to stay up all day sot I could work and then doing heroin to sleep late at night.
My dad committed the crime of first degree murder on August 14, 1996, which is my birthday, and he went to prison.
People disappear all the time and nobody would have ever known what happened to them. It was my intent to kill them for what they had done to me.
"I started my speech to the parole board by stating; ‘I’m guilty of murder too, and the father of the person I killed forgave me and welcomed me into his family. So, who am I to not extend that same forgiveness to her?"
"Suddenly I felt the real power and presence of God. It was like fire and electricity shooting through my body."
I’m the reason they put the cables through the leather coats at Sears. I’m the reason they lock the razors up at Walmart. I’m the reason new clothing has security ink tags. I had to have a way to feed my addiction.
I knew better. I was raised better, but once I started and the more I did it the deeper into it I got.