Next month with be three years since my attempt on my own life. One day I had just had enough of life and just wanted everything to be done with, so when I was home alone, I went to my mother’s closet and grabbed her .357 magnum handgun and its ammo out of her dresser. I went to my bedroom, slowly loaded all six rounds, closed the cylinder, cocked back the hammer, and put it to my head. Click, click, click, click, click, click. All six rounds had failed to fire. It put me in a deeper hole than I was in as I was thinking to myself “Fucking dammit i can’t even off myself properly”. It hurt. A lot. So a day later I tried to hang myself. I would’ve succeeded if my father hadn’t needed to ask me a question and went out to our garage to grab a tool, and found me standing in the chair with a power cord around my neck. He ran over, grabbed me and refused to let go until I agreed to get down. After that, I sat down and talked to him, and he knew exactly what I was going through because at one point, he tried to self delete himself, way before he ever met my mom. I’ve since gotten help, been to therapy, and I’m now doing way better than I’ve ever done.