/r/TwoSentenceSadness
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As I lay there with my hands covered in bright red blood, struggling to breathe and trying to hold my stab wounds shut until help arrives, I have one regret.
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“I am not past my prime and there’s still many years ahead of me to turn a new leaf, who cares that I’m unemployed, rapidly balding, loveless, and a recovering alcohol addict?”
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As I take out the garbage with my thin teenager arms while my mom lies on the couch babbling I wonder.
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