Well reader, I'm going to let you in on a little secret today. You may be surprised, but I actually tried to kill myself once. Now some of you may think "Oh Nesquik. You're so silly making up stories to write a review". Others will say "I wish you would've succeeded because you suck". Most of you don't read my reviews. Believe it if you'd like, or don't. It's still important to me.

The story begins with my rare form of seasonal affective disorder. My SAD actually came about from the SAD my mom had that put her in violent moods in the fall. I remember going to school with bruises and the teachers and principals and volunteers worrying that my dad was hitting me. I always told them the truth. My dad wasn't around anymore. He left my mom when I was young. She once told me that it was because he was gay all along and couldn't hide from himself. More commonly she told me it was because I had come along and completely fucked up his life. I believed the gay theory, though.

During the fall, my mom's SAD would lead to her going out on lengthy crack binges, leaving me at home to my own devices. I managed to survive. I ate lots of cereal and stuff like that. My mom wasn't really all that bad off financially. It wasn't anything incredible, but we made do. When she wasn't on her crack binges she was at home, usually cussing, yelling, throwing things at me and beating me physically. I was always embarrassed. I told everybody at school that it was a bully who I didn't know.

Anyway, one fall I got fed up with it all. My mom had started doing crack at home instead of disappearing for days. This meant either violence toward me or that she was in the room fucking whatever strange man she met at the bar. I ended up in pretty rough shape. By then I was about 16, weed and beer were no longer part of my daily routines. I was full out onto cocaine at this point of my life. Things were bleak. I couldn't keep a job. When I did get money I would usually have to help support my mom. I was failing at school and was actually basically dropped out.

I couldn't pay my dealer one day. He and his crew beat the shit out of me for it. This was the day. The day my life changed. I got home and my mom was with some guy on the couch. The guy got extremely embarrassed and left. My mom freaked out at me.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing??!? I was gonna make some money off him! You useless piece of shit, I wish I'd never gotten knocked up b..."

Her voice was cut off as I slammed the door to my room and jammed a chair against it so she couldn't get in. I could hear things being smashed and slammed all over the house and once or twice something was thrown against my door. Nothing unusual. Nothing new.

I looked at the things I'd swiped from the garage sale that was going on a few blocks away. I didn't care what was in the box, I just grabbed it and ran hoping it had anything I could sell to support my addiction. I sat down on my mattress. The thing was so old and so beaten up that it was probably less comfortable than the floor. I no longer had anything really of value. I'd sold almost everything for cocaine unless my mom had already sold it for her fancies. Whore.

In the box I found some interesting things. There was a deck of cards. Something that might keep me entertained. There were some salt and pepper shakers, but the box was mostly taken up by an assortment of women's clothes. But there were two other things in the box that caught my attention. One was a rope. The other was a portable CD player with headphones.

Had I not decided that suicide was the only answer, I might have immediately gone and made some money off the clothes, the shakers and the CD player. For now, the rope had my full attention. I pulled it out and it seemed very sturdy, very strong. I looked up at the beam that was across my roof and wondered if it would support my weight. I daringly pulled my chair from the door and threw one end of the rope over the beam. A former boy scout, I was able to remember how to do some tying and managed to tie the rope to the beam and make myself a noose on the end of the rope. I pushed the chair away so that I could hang off the rope and sure enough the old beam wasn't nearly as rotten as I anticipated.

So there I was. A rope tied into a noose and the chance to end it all. I pulled the chair back under the rope and stood on it. I placed my head through the noose. And then I stood there. My mind was racing and I was sweating. I stood there for 25 minutes, and could not bring myself to do it.

I looked around the room and saw the box on my mattress. I decided to see if I could kill some time and see if I could get more courage to pull the trigger on my own life. I jumped down off the chair and jammed it back against the door. Sitting down on the mattress, I grabbed the CD player to take a better look at it. It was a silver Panasonic that had a reddish window that allowed you to look through and see a small portion of the spinning CD inside. Much to my surprise, I could see that there was a CD. The previous owner must have forgotten it there.

I opened up the player and inside was a CD by Limp Bizkit entitled Significant Other. I'd never heard of this band, but seeing as I'd nothing better to do, I gave it a shot. I listened to the whole CD. From Intro to Nookie to Re-Arranged to No Sex and all the way to the Outro. I listened to it. And it was awful. But I listened to it.

And do you know what I did after listening to it? I pulled the chair up to the rope. A stood there for a couple of minutes, my eyes starting to tear up. I untied the rope. I pulled the chair from my door and went to find my mom. She was gone.

I left my home, then. I went to the Wal-Mart down the street and found an abandoned shopping cart. I took it home and I gathered up what little possessions I had and put them in the cart. I showed up at the door of my one good friend, Patrick. I told Patrick what had gone on during the day and told him how I felt and what I wanted to do.

"You can stay here for a while, bud," he said. "You can't be here forever, but I know you won't be."

I couldn't sleep that night. My mind was full of what happened that day and when those thoughts went away, they were replaced by thoughts of the future.

The next day I cleaned myself up as best as I could and went looking for places to apply for a job. It didn't take long before I got myself a part-timer as an assistant at a butcher shop. The owner of the store needed a helper and saw what a difficult situation I was in and gave me a shot. I didn't disappoint. I showed him how hard I was willing to work.

Before long I was working almost non-stop. I had three different part-time jobs that I did unless I was sleeping or eating. It wasn't all that long before I had my own little apartment. I was very thankful for Patrick and the people who gave me work.

I made some money, and I got my life back on track. It wasn't much at the time, but only 10 years later I've got myself a good life. I live in my new home with my wife who is pregnant with our second child (I hope it's a boy!). I work in an accounting firm as one of the higher-ups and I hope to get the promotion I've been working for.

And I owe it all to this album. This awful album by Limp Bizkit. Do you know why? Because after hearing this album in it's full, I knew that I'd gone through the worst possible experience I could face in my life and that I had survived it. Without it, I likely would've killed myself. I would've never gotten the great life I live today. Thank you Significant Other.

I left that CD at my mom's house.