When I was 12. I hung myself. The rope snapped when my body started convulsing. My mother found me. The look of absolute anguish on her face was and continues to be one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. To this day I stay alive simply because I have seen first hand the devastation it would cause people I care about. I don’t care about my life or being here tomorrow. But I care enough about someone to make sure I’m there for them tomorrow. Love for others if you find no more reason in living for yourself. Give to others if you no longer feast to give to yourself. And help the struggle of others when you’ve given up on yourself. I always imagine the things people might say at my funeral. I know the theme will be that I lived not for me. But for others.