My name is Mickey "Suicide" O'Dea (pronounced O-Day). I've always been an outsider. I failed in school. I lived in a cage. I’ve seen and done things I can never take back. I was angry. I was lost. Undiagnosed ADHD left me restless, always searching for an escape. I found it in self-medication. At 17, I attempted suicide. But the truth is, I had been dying inside long before that.

For years, I walked alone in the darkness—trapped in a vicious cycle of addiction, sobriety, and psychosis. No matter what I did, the weight never lifted. Suicide was always on my mind. My sober reality was just as terrifying as the one drugs created. I saw no way out. I prayed to God, begged for salvation, but nothing changed.

Everyone around me was dying, yet I remained. The devil is real—I felt him clawing at me, whispering that the only way out was to end it all. But even in my darkest moments, I reached for the small light inside me—the one thing keeping me alive.