I can remember the feeling. The present was nothing but agony. The future would be no different. Life was awful. I was a failure. There was only one way out: I had to die. That’s my ten-year-old self. I can see him, desolate. “I wish I were dead,” he wails. “I want to die,” he cries.
Raising the dead
Raising the dead
Raising the dead
I can remember the feeling. The present was nothing but agony. The future would be no different. Life was awful. I was a failure. There was only one way out: I had to die. That’s my ten-year-old self. I can see him, desolate. “I wish I were dead,” he wails. “I want to die,” he cries.