My Story.

My name is Alex. Everyone thought I was the happiest person they knew. I made myself believe it at times. I have been depressed since I was about six. And now seven years later…I Still am. My father left me, my sister, and my mother just so he could run off to live in Oklahoma with his hooker girlfriend. I believed everything was my fault. That nothing would ever get better. That nothing mattered. I was six. I was so depressed.Everyone thought that because I was so young that I wouldn’t be able to understand what was happening. But I did. They didn’t think that I could be so depressed at such a young age. But  I was. I still am. nothing helped. Counciling. Therapy. Nothing. I started cutting a few years ago. I helped. It was a distraction. For one moment all I felt was the razor. I don’t think about how alone I really am. Or how my family hates me. Or how people talk behind my back. All I think about is the blood. And the addicting part? Well, that’s when the cut isn’t fresh enough and i Can feel the lonliness and saddness build up inside of me. So I do it again. Only A little bit deeper so the numbness will last longer. So the pain inside will be delayed. When the pain on the inside gets worse, I make the outside worse. I can’t control the pain on the inside but I can on the outside. I’m sick and tired of life. And I want to end it all, but i know I can’t because of my friend. I’m still trying  to keep her alive. Once I know shes stable and won’t do anything stupid like I’m going to, I’m going  to  be the dumbass I am and kill myself.