In senior year of high school, some roastie was giving me shit so I told her to go drink bleach and slit her wrists.
Later that day, I got called in to the counselor's office because someone had reported me.
I had long hair, sat at the back of the classroom, and literally didn't even have a single friend so people automatically assumed I was a potential school shooter.
I was full-on interrogated for almost an entire hour.
Looking back on it years later, sometimes I wish I would have gone full-ER when I had the chance. (Hypothetically, of course, FBI agent reading this.)
Too late for that now.
