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I was finally ready to commit suicide a couple years ago until a starved cat that was obviously abandoned came to me for help. Since the local shelters had a reputation for putting animals to sleep way too early I had to make a hard choice, so I tossed my gun away and began to pick myself up, cumulating in moving back home to finally get a degree once a job I snagged sadly ended after a year at it.
I don't like living with my family or this area. It is the epitome of baby boomer republican paradise and wonders why EVERYONE under 65 moves away as they ship and vote off every potential job. With my car dead alongside being broke, it seems my nightmare of being trapped forever in this hell has come true.
But my cat is safe and happy. She's awesome. I got to unambiguously save a life so I can finally off myself when she passed away peacefully, hopefully years in the future. I had to make a hard choice and as miserable as *I* am, I cannot in good faith regret making it due to her.
I'm a namefag as well.
