I was born with a hole in my heart. No, it wasn’t a physical hole that shows on an echocardiogram, but believe me, it was there – I’ve got years of painful, sleepless nights and dark, depression spells to prove it.
I remember lying on the floor of my apartment, face down in the carpet, sobbing uncontrollably at the mess I’d made of my life. I wanted to die – I’d actually wanted to die for several years – but now more than ever.