I have been depressed since the 9th grade, and I’m 21 now. It really blows. I think about killing myself often. I honestly don’t know how I am still alive
I got in a pretty bad car accident in January, but I didn’t die. I didn’t even get hurt. I felt bad then, because the night before I had been thinking about killing myself…I didn’t do it on purpose
I’m an awful person. My therapist tells me otherwise and logically, I know it’s not true, but I can’t help believing it.
I don’t have many friends. I used to have some friends, but now I’m living at home and don’t have any friends who I see regularly. Â I am afraid to approach people. I am always worried they will know how awful I am–how pathetic and miserable, how absolutely wretched. How fucking stupid and useless I am. Who would want to be friends with someone like that?
I really am terrible. I don’t deserve to live. I wish I wish I wish I had the courage to carry out any kind of plan, but I am too scared to make plans. Part of me still wants to live, and I try to listen to that part, even though the suicidal part is very, very loud.
I can’t think of one good thing about myself. I used to be smart. I was creative and funny and deep. I can’t think deeply anymore. My thoughts are on a loop.