I was about 8 or 9. My dad and I went for a walk to one of the many forest preserves on Chicago’s South Side. I had been holding in a pee for a while and was ready to burst. There were no bathrooms asides from a decrepit old outhouse like a half-mile away. The idea of popping a squat in the bushes made me cry harder.…

This may not be “confounding,” but it’s all I could think of so here it goes:

As a “suicide attempt surviver (I’m not crazy about that term),” I have a lot of empathy for those who’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts and ideations. Not so much this guy, though. If you’re going to opt-out, please don’t take other lives in the process.