I don’t know where else to go.

I really don’t want to live anymore. I can’t see even a sliver of hope for myself. I’ve been clinically depressed since I was 12, and I’m now 18 and I can’t remember ever feeling this bad about myself. When I was 12 I started doing drugs, and it just continually got worse and worse over the years. Eventually at 15, I got in much trouble with the government and some stuff happened then I got sent to rehab. I was in rehab for 7 months total, and 2 months in juvy before that. When I was in rehab I really didn’t think I needed to be there, I thought it was all bullshit, I’ve heard it all before. Then I got out and had no idea what to do with myself. I could either continue on in my life of nothing, or I could try to turn it around. So I tried to turn it around. I went to live with my grandparents in the middle of nowhere to try to get away from it, but it found me…Fast. I started popping pills every chance I got, which was quite often. Then maybe a week before prom I took around 30 pills and went to school trippen balls. The principal discovered this, and arranged that I got taken away on an ambulance to the hospital.  The hospital, lord knows what happened there, then I got taken to a place I don’t really know what you’d call it, mini-rehab, I guess. I was there for about 3 days, then my grandparents, who are extremely religious drop the bomb that they’re sending me back with my family, who just moved to California. So I go to California and everything is different. My sister, who was my best friend, isn’t even herself anymore, and my parents are just not right, ya know? So things were weird for a while, then I started to exercise a lot and actually take my meds regularly, I felt okay for a while. Then school came around, senior year this year. I got a job, too. I thought things were finally starting to look up. Then I walked into the school and knew that I wouldn’t be able to do it. There were way too many people. I mean, I’m not shy, really, but I just really don’t like talking to people. Because of my extreme anxiety and paranoid schitzophrenia, I always think people are judging me, staring at me, laughing at me, talking about me,putting curses on me, trying to kill me, etc. And then because of my poly-substance dependence I feel the need to get high. And I do. So I did. I took 21 pills the second day and the third day I took maybe 15 or so. I got kicked out of school the 3rd day, that concoction was a little stronger than the first one. Yeah, I was sad. But I was even more sad when at the end of the week I took 20 more pills and went to work and got fired. I know what everyone says, “JUST DONT DO DRUGS THEN” But seriously, I can’t not do drugs. Drugs are all I know, and they’re the only thing in the world that I actually love. The only thing that’s never fucked me over. Everything that happened to me was my own damn fault, I can’t blame the drugs. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about cocaine, ecstacy, meth, crack, xanax, valium, vicodin, oxy, you name it, I’m thinkin about it. I guess that’s why I really really want to die. I am nothing without drugs. When I have drugs, I’m happy, whether is a fake happiness or not. I feel confident in myself and when I’m high is the only time I don’t think about suicide. It’s the only time when I feel like I can just fuckin be myself, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I’m just a way better version of myself when I’m high. And I know that I’m never going to stop. I’ve tried. I can’t. I know that one day the drugs will kill me, but to be honest, that’s just a plus in my book. I don’t care what happens to me, because I hate myself more than I hate anyone else in the world and if I died, no one would care. I know a lot of people say that, but I’m being for real, no one would care. Maybe 3 people would come to my funeral, and they’re my family, so they’d have to. I don’t think anyone will read this, but it felt good to get out. Bye.