It always comes back

So I’ve been dealing with depression for awhile, and it’s been in different forms each time if that makes sense? Like meaning the way I see myself and others around me. Beginning in highschool and through it I had a rough time dealing with others, by my junior year I was into death metal and planning on getting a gun to kill everyone in school. Even now I’m not as shaken by that statement as I should be and that’s what lead me to my next part of depression. By my second year of college I was alone, sure I had family and friends who would see me, sometimes that is. But I was alone for the fact that I was still dealing with those thoughts but I was feeling horrible about them. Sure their thoughts but thoughts become actions whether we like it or not. I would also start having these visions or dreams about me killing myself or my family. It was bad so I had a plan since my uncle had cancer and my dad was so distracted by him I was thinking about just “sneaking out the back door” while my family is preoccupied I could die and they would have no time to mourn over me. My plan was to just get on a highway and wait for a semi truck going 65 miles per hour, and just run in front of it. It was perfect I wouldn’t truly be killing myself and it would be a complete mess so hopefully no one could identify the body. Now after being labeled a psychotic by my therapist at the time I was rushed to pyschward which was probably the worse place ever. Getting out of that place was great, but now I’m stuck taking meds that if I get off my body will uncontrollable ache and shake, or I will get this surreal feeling or feel like an out of body experience with myself every so often. But even then taking these meds I get this uncontrollable weight in my stomach, where I am loathing and wish that I could just finally die and be rid of this meaningless life I was given.