My life has been so unhappy for the short time I’ve spent here. I was diagnosed with depression and PTSD when I was only sixteen. My high school experience was horrible. I remember starting high school, I was so happy, excited, full of life. I remember one day walking up the stairs talking to a friends and they asked me how I could smile all the time for no reason. I can’t even remember the last time I truly smiled. I had an amazing group of eight girl friends, we had been close since middle school, then everything changed when I started hanging out with other people too. They started calling me a *****, they would corner me in the halls, surround me, scream at me. My facebook, my texts, were full of them calling me names, telling me what a horrible person I was. I started sinking further and further. I made a new friend, a guy a year younger than me, we had gone on a school trip to Costa Rica together, I turned for him for help. He ended up leaving bruises down my arms. I started thinking more and more about suicide. I tried talking to the counselors at my high school, trying to get them to help me stop the daily attacks my ‘friends’ waged on me, but when it’s eight girls against the voice of one no one cares. No one helped me. No one stopped them. I told one of my other friends that I was thinking about killing myself, he told me I should get it over with, that “everyone will be better off without you here, no one wants you here. They’ll be happier without you.” That night I took a bottle of pills. You know you can’t do anything right when you wake up the next morning, you can’t even kill yourself right. So I turned to cutting and burning and some how I made it to graduation. I was hopeful, leaving for college, escaping the pain of high school. I was doing okay, not good, but okay. I was still with my boyfriend of three years. Everything was getting better. I started my second year of college, my boyfriend and I took a break. I was so depressed and sad and alone again. I asked a friend to come drink with me and keep me company while I cried. He took advantage of me. I told him to stop. I’m so tired of being used. Of being hurt by people I trusted. I’m so tired of it all. My boyfriend and I got back together after I told him what happened. That was a year ago. I love my man so much. He left me a week before my 20th birthday, that was two weeks ago. He keeps screaming at me, telling me I’m easy, I’m a slut for that night a year ago. That night I told him to stop. I told him to stop. I told him too late. It’s all my fault. I got drunk. I said no too late. I’ve fought so hard for the man I love, trying to show him I’m sorry. I gave up everything fighting. I gave up a 4.0 GPA. I gave up the idea of getting into vet school and preforming state of the art surgeries. I’m so tired of fighting. I have no fight left in me. I have no friends, I lost the man I have loved for the past four and a half years, I gave up my future fighting for him. I’m so tired of fighting for a life that I hate. I held a gun to my head and pulled the trigger three months ago on one of the night my boyfriend was telling me how easy I am. I’ve only slept with him. And that night, I cant even remember that night anymore my PTSD has gotten so bad. I told him too stop. He did but it was too late. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger waiting for the release, it never came. The gun jammed. You know you are ready to die when a gun jams on you and you reload to try again. My boyfriend woke up though and I hid the gun before I had a chance to pull the trigger. I’m tired of trying. I’m tired of hurting. All I hear is the voices of him, of those girls back in high school, Â telling me that I’m nothing, easy, worthless, failure, better off dead. Maybe they are right. I have nothing left to live for anymore. I want to be done fighting. I want to let go. I have no one. I have nothing. I am nothing.