It was a series of two bad weeks, bad day after bad day, that led to my attempt of suicide. It started with a cold. Fluid in the lungs, head ache, tired, and a temperature around 99, I’d been ill since thursday. Due to the illness I couldn’t finish my chores. It was that Sunday that I was to go to a friend’s birthday party. Now, I’m not invited to a lot of parties, and I never get to see this friend, so I thought I should tough out the illness and go. My father had other ideas. While panting and slowly changing, my father burst into my room.

“When are you cutting the grass?” He asked.

“I can’t, my head, and chest hurts… Physically I can’t” but he cut me off.

“So you’re missing the party? Alright” and he walked off.

Naturally, I called my friend and told him I couldn’t make it. It took me three hours to cut the grass. Three hours I pushed the mower around while coughing and weezing. What did my father do? Sit around at the TV and watch football. The party required you to be there at 12. I finished at 2.