I used to be depressed and suicidal. There were a number of reasons for this that I would rather not talk about, but not a day went by thta I did not think about death and killing myself. The day came when I started making lists of everything I had to be grateful for: lists that steadily grew smaller and smaller as the things and people I loved gradually died to me. One day, U was poised to finally commit suicide, ready to die, but something stopped me. I decided to wait, and gradually my life got better. It improved, and I found that I could create reasons to live where there seem to just be desolation.
But today something terrible happened. My parents (I am 14, that stuff happened when I was 13) found something that I had written a long time ago, when I was in the throes of depression. There was some pretty horrible stuff in there. I tried to explain to them that it was a long time ago, and that it was a different person who had written that stuff, but it was no use. They screamed at me for an hour calling me a “shit bag” and an “ungrateful twat” before leaving me. I have spoken not a single word in 5 hours; I feel like I never want to speak again. I was so happy this morning, but now I don’t want to eat, or speak, or smile, or do anything. I just want to finish what I started a year ago.
I’m getting that feeling again – that feeling of complete hopelessness. That feeling that I thought that I had left behind, but that they unearthed. it just goes to show that for all I did, for all the new life I made for myself – new friends, new school, new hobbies, new music….the shadow of my old life came creeping back to strangle me in it’s horror. No matter how hard I try to extricate myself from this pit, I am trapped in its’ hopelessness, and even when I think I am free, I will always be dragged back into the throes of depression.