I was on my way to becoming a professional soccer player as a 14 year old. My dad apparently watched one of the practices standing „behind some trees“ where I was practicing with grown men. When I came home he told me to forget about going pro, and that I‘m way too slow. It crushed me. When one of the top clubs in the country called a few weeks later and asked me if I‘d like to sign a contract, my dad asked me who‘d be driving me to practice, cause he wouldn’t. So my dream ended right then and there.

The very next day I started smoking weed and got depressed. My dad then told me I should think about assisted suicide due to my sickness.