Just recently (the 4th...wait for it) I went for my 4th attempted suicide. I had enough rope. Got it tied nice and tight. Made sure it could hold my weight. Had the noose around my neck and kicked off.......only to come crashing down because the branch had weakened and gotten soft. Thus I am alive. While I was sitting there I was thinking back to my childhood. I read the medical reports and knew all about it. I should have been dead. I had no immune system and was getting sick every week. I had non-stop ear infections. The Dr's told my parents that they should be prepared for my death. They Docs were 100% sure I was gonna die. Somehow I lived on. My body got stronger and I survived. Now fast forward almost 2 decades. Here I sit. Alive after that and 4 failed suicides. I almost have to laugh that I pushed so much to be alive when I was a child only to want to end it. I'm left thinking was the death during my childhood the only time I would be given to leave before all the pain started. Now I can only think of me surviving so many times as either a strong sense of the desire to live or karma and fate punishing me for not taking their way out before. So I think of this as my punishment. My just desserts for wanting to live when I should have died. This life of utter pain and misery.