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Here’s Why Negative Internet Comments Don’t Bother Me
When I was roughly fifteen, I had a gun put to my chest by someone I owed enough money, to know I was never going to be able to pay them back.
He looked me dead in my face and asked if I thought he was playing — before thankfully telling me he was a few seconds later.
I don’t remember being scared. I don’t say that to sound tough, I’ve just never really understood the fear of death. It could be because I’ve never found life to be all that awesome, who knows?
A few years later, the same person had his door kicked in and was shot three times. I was supposed to be right there with him when it happened and would have been if he was better at answering his phone.
A short time after this, I was walking down the same street I was born, raised and lived on, when a guy three times my size across the street asked what I was looking at. I don’t recall my exact response but whatever it was, it resulted in me being beaten to a bloody mess in broad daylight.
A few years later, I’d be beaten a few inches within my life when I was so intoxicated I could hardly stand, let alone fight. The doctor who treated me said if I would have gone home to sleep, as I tried to before a family member insisted on taking me to the hospital, I would have no doubt died in my sleep.
