01/04/2019
I was at the tail end of a two month long su***de mission. Vodka, chased with he**in and crack. My depression had spun out of control. I was unemployable. I had just got 13 grand back as a tax return and blew through all of that money quickly. I began hustling however I could to keep my head above water. I had been holed up in seedy motels for a couple months, just grinding to avoid the sickness. I was completely out of resources. Out of options. Imagine the blackest abyss in the middle of a Super 8 motel room — that’s where I was residing. I couldn’t think of one reason to stick around on this planet any longer. I was sitting in the social services parking lot when my wife, who had filed divorce papers, called to ask me about the missing income tax money. I used every drug addict manipulation tactic that I knew to try and turn it back around on her. I explored every possible lie. Finally, defeated and humiliated at what I had become, I said, “You know what, you want your money? I’ll get you your money!”
I had fantasized about robbing a bank ever since I had watched Point Break. Now I had what I thought was a valid reason to do so. I had been teetering on the edge of death for a while now and I knew that if I wanted to live — I was going to have to be locked up. And a big part of me still did want to live. I just didn’t know how.
I pulled into the parking lot of the church next door to the bank. The place I chose to rob was actually my bank. I had banked there for years. I walked in with no disguise and handed the teller a note. The look on his face will forever be etched into my memory. He was horrified. As he was stacking up the money, I just kept saying to myself, “I’m actually doing this.” He slid the money over to me. I tucked it in my jacket and walked out. I ran over to my car and went straight back to the hotel. When I crossed the threshold into my room, I vomited. I called up a couple of dealers and stocked up on my medicine. The hands on the clock continued to move. Minutes. Hours. Time kept passing. I was pretty calm, considering what had just happened. The drugs probably helped with that. Then, I heard the knock. That familiar authoritative knock. I instinctively dropped the spike and the loaded pipe. I knew the run was over. Deep down, that was what I wanted.
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