This is my first time on the website, so I hopeÂ I don’t break any rules or something.
My story is pretty standard: aÂ strict family, crippingly high expectations, and an inability to ever deliver what they wanted culminated in chronic depression and veryÂ bad self esteem.Â I once brought home a B+ for a 7th grade science class. My parentsÂ screamed at me and insulted meÂ until I was literally on my knees, sobbing, begging them to stop.
In high school I was absolutely miserable. Because I was shy and socially awkward, I was unpopular, completelyÂ ignored. IÂ didÂ well in my classes, but of course notÂ nearly wellÂ enough to please my parents. Nobody talked to me, nobody wanted to know me, nobody gave a shit about howÂ much I was suffering inside, not evenÂ my few close friends.
Senior year was rough. I was insanely depressed, I got shitty grades; my parents, of course,Â screamed at me to do better and grounded me when I couldn’t live up to their expectations.Â They were really putting on the pressure.Â They wouldn’t settle for anything less than an Ivy LeagueÂ school. I knew my chances were awful, that there were better alternatives, but they ignored my pleas. I asked my friends, my teachers, my high school counselor for advice, butÂ they didn’t have any to give. It got so bad, IÂ finally decided to kill myself. Â
I wantedÂ suicide to be painless and 100% effective, above all, but I couldn’t find anything that could guaranteeÂ both.Â I finally settled on aÂ method and chose the date. IÂ lay in bed until my parents had fallen asleep.Â The plan was simple: I wasÂ supposed to tiptoe down to the garage and just do it. Finally end it all and show them how much pain I’d been enduring.Â But I couldn’t bring myself to get up. I was so scared; I was 17. I didn’t want to die, but I did. It was confusing, to say the least. I ended up crying myself to sleep, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. I did, and somehow, with the aid ofÂ alcohol and marijuana, dragged myself through the rest of senior year and got into a good school.
But it never left me, that desire. I thought I was going to be happy at college, and I am, in many respects. I forgave my parents, I figured out who I am–I moved on. Yet in my darkest moments I can’t help but contemplate it again. I’m an adult now. It would be so muchÂ easier to get my hands on the pills, the drugs, the gun. And sometimes I am so desperate that I consider just throwing myself off the nearest overpass.Â The only thing keeping me fromÂ offing myself is the hope that I’ll one day find real meaning in life.Â I don’t know–maybe one day I’ll give into the urge and fuck it all and just do it. And today, god, I am so tired of living.