So, when I was born, I had a relatively low chance of survival and (apparently) my grandpa mentioned that they should just let me die. Well honestly I wish I did die then. Sure, I may have experienced some nice things in life but I just feel like I would have rather experienced nothing. When I was a little kid, I was a fantastic student and lived a rather happy life. Had many friends, usually in a happy mood, and in school I got on the honor roll all of the time and was even in a gifted program. On Christmas day, I was ill with pneumonia and apparently emphysema. Went to the hospital and it was a 50/50 chance of life or death. Well I lived. Once again, I wish I would have died.Â When I was in the 6th grade, that’s when everything started turning to shit. Dad had become an alcoholic, is a bigger asshole than before, I got a failing grade in class and hoped for death, amongst other events. After that, I became a lackluster student. Got low grades, even failing ones and just didn’t care. Got bullied much more often in classes, usually getting made fun of. On really nice days people would hit me such as one time where a “friend” of mine literally drop kicked me onto concrete, where I had scraped up arms and hands. Life was really shitty for me and I realized I was depressed. Had numerous situations where I wished I was dead. Well, flash forward to today and well I wish for death nearly every day. Parents argue and fight, I get ignored, they hardly act like parents to me, and the only people that seem to help are my friends and my grandparents. If it wasn’t for my grandparents, I wouldn’t have any anti-depressants or be seeing a therapist. When I asked my grandma why she wasn’t taking me, she said that my mom actually said that “I am just being a teenager”. Even when I showed her my wall which had holes in it as well as the wallpaper torn down, she thought little of it. The only thing that told her I needed help was me, walking into her room at 12 in the morning with bloody, cut up wrists and telling her that I really need to see someone. I’ve cut myself a bit, made over 200 cuts on one wrist and also tried to kill myself via overdose. It was 20 pills; Tylenol, Advil, and sleeping pills combined. Unfortunately all it did when I woke up for college was give me a horrible stomach, a terrible mood, and more wishes for death. The plan was to take 90 or so afterward (however many I picked up from the medicine cabnet) but I relinquished them to the parents after I went to the hospital on doctors orders. I guess I’ll add that I hate myself for numerous reasons, and one reason is because I touched my cousin when he was 10 and I was 15. I don’t feel good about my appearance, but cross dressing makes me feel a little better about myself. Uhm… well grandparents don’t like the fact that I wear girls clothes at home and the fact that I believe that I could be gay. But yeah, really self-conscience and all that good stuff. Still wish to kill myself and I guess I’ll end up trying again some day. If you made it through all of this, I applaud you. Oh and if you have any questions or anything, go at it.