My earliest (or one of) memory is of me when. I was 6 with a steak knife pointed at my jugular crying and trying to will up the courage to do it.
Things I did not improve greatly from there. I remember very little of my childhood or really any part of my life. Bits and pieces here and there.
Guys, I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I think I might be depressed.
Great. I’ll join in on the incitement of violence against those raping us out of our very existence.
Kill them all.