The Truth

I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live either.

Maybe that’s not entirely true, sometimes I’d really like to die. Like the time I took twenty pills and stared up at the ceiling waiting for it all to be over. But something always pulls me back. Ten minutes into it, my little brother came in to comfort me. I had been upset after my mom had another one of her episodes and lashed out at me. He told me that she didn’t mean it and that he would be there for me. It was in that moment that I didn’t want to die anymore…but I still didn’t want to live.

Miraculously, nothing happened. Nothing at all. I was fine after a little sleep. When I awoke I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or thankful. That’s the thing about depression. Sometimes you want something so bad, but there’s still a little voice in the back of your mind screaming that it isn’t the right decision. Sadly, I listen to the louder voice more often than not. My common sense is washed away with the pain I’m feeling.

I remember when I started cutting. It was in 6th grade and it was just an experiment. I had heard a girl talking about it at school and one day while I was home alone, I picked up my brother’s pocket knife that he had left on the dining room table. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to accomplish at first, but soon I found myself dragging the blade across my skin. The knife was sharp, so it didn’t take much to penetrate it. In fact, I hardly felt a thing. It wasn’t until I looked down and saw blood that I realized I had legitimately cut myself. I swore I’d never do it again, but that instance was only the beginning.

As time went on, the cutting got worse and worse. I’d cut my legs, my thighs, and my arms. I got to the point where I enjoyed seeing the blood. I saw it as a punishment. Whenever I’d done something bad or upset someone, I’d cut. It made me feel better. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough.

I also began seeing myself as fat, so I purged at least twice a day everyday. My goal weight was whatever I could be satisfied with in the mirror. This wasn’t realistic. I know that now.

I no longer purge, however self-harm is still an issue. I just wish there was a way to break the addiction. People don’t realize it but self-harming can be extremely addictive. I don’t know if I’ll ever break the habit.