Before and after

Before I met you, all I did was jeopardise my life. My life was a ball of trash headed into the can before you. I drank till I blacked out. I popped till I passed out. I smoked till I coughed up blood. I was even an amateur mercenary. I have excepted...compensation....for the bodily injuries of others. Why? Because I don’t care what happens to my life. I’d be lying if I said my first thought wasn’t “I hope this guy has a gun” before I jumped him. I was hoping he’d shoot me. If you don’t accept my life, then it’s getting thrown away. I was trash before you, apparently I’ll be trash after. I’ve thought about how others will feel once they realise I’m gone, but I’m going through with it anyway. And that’s what makes me trash