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I ran away from home and started drinking heavily at the age of 14 to deal with my mothers death. Since then I've done cannabis, amphetamines, cocaine, extacy, every opioid I got my hands on, designer drugs from here to there, hell-of-a-lot-of benzodiazepines, psychedelics, you name it, all that to self-medicate my depression. Guess what, it doesn't work, year after year I fell deeper and deeper into my own self-made hell, alienating everyone around me, until after 11 years or so I got the bright idea of suicide. Didn't do it though, just decided to start living again. Stopped cold turkey, it felt like shit, but I thought I should suffer a bit for my own stupidity. I still drink occasionally, and smoke weed once a month or so, why wouldn't I. Now, I got to work as a graphic designer/photographer to support my lovely bride and our beautiful son. I still feel anxious from time to time, but I'm seeing a therapist. LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL

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  • during that entire time you didn't get fucked. Hell my nieces friends ask for things and they always give up pussy.

  • good going

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