hmm.. What to do..

Hey, I’m new to this site, I have been reading posts on it every night for a while now, and always intended to make an account but haven’t until today. I know that no one know anything about me, or that i even exist, so this probably won’t get read, but just figured i’d see if it helps to write how I feel instead of keeping it to myself like i always do. I’m sorry that this is so long, i guess, if your bored, have fun. but i doubt anyone will read it anywasys, and if you do, you most likely won’t finish it. but thats okay. :).  I guess i’ll start with who i am.. I don’t want to post my  full name just incase someone that actually does know me happens to see this. But My name is maycie. I’m seventeen years old. I’ve been suffering from depression, suicidal/homicidal intentions, anxiety, a rare type of OCD, and alcohol/drug addiction for as long as i can remember, which isn’t long as i have repressed most of my memories. I grew up in a emotionally and occasionally physically abusive home. I have two sisters, but i’ve always been alone in this, as my sisters have always had friends and boyfriends and were always out of the house with them, so it was just me and my dad, while my mom worked. My dad is the biggest jerk i have ever met, seen, or heard of. I would personally prefer to not have a father at all then to have had him. If i found out i was adopted, it would be the best day of my life, but unfortunately, I wasn’t. I had a dog named Ty from grade 5 on, He was legitimately my best and only true friend. I could talk to him about everything, and he never judged me, or talked back, just comforted me, and loved me unconditionally. He was amazing. He was there for me when i was upset, and when i was hurt. he made my pain go away. I loved him, I always will. In 2010, a lot of bad stuff happened, im not going to go into details, but it sucked, and i realized how much i really do hate the world. The day after my birthday, Ty got really sick (probably from how dirty, and unreasonable our living situation was). I was the one who found him, I see it all the time, I remember walking home from school, going in the door and it smelled horrible, i heard him wimpering, and shaking, he was have such bad seizures that he bit his tongue completely off. It was the worst thing i have ever seen. I was with him every day after that until the last one. It was horrible watching my best and only friend die, and knowing i couldn’t do anything about it. He was only five years old. I was devastated when he was gone. I had no body. No friends, no one to talk to about my family, my life, the things that happen to me everyday, and most of all no one to talk to about how guilty i felt that I wasn’t there for ty, when he got sick, or didnt do anything to prevent it, and how much i missed him. That was when i first thought about hurting myself. I started cutting regularly. I couldn’t deal with the things being said to me, Like “you are the biggest mistake me and your mother ever made. or Why are you still alive you stupid *****, your just a fuck up”. I was convinced it was true. i am still. I’m a fuck up, and i deserve to die. I tried to commit suicide many times, many ways, but always ended up chickening out, or not doing enough. I began to smoke weed to deal with my thoughts and feelings instead of doing anything. it significantly affected my schooling. I was told in about may of 2011 that my dad has a hereditary mental condition in which your brain degenerates, causing what starts as mental health issues, and eventually turns to complete physical disabilities, including not being able to hear, talk properly, or move, and ultimately death. My grandmother is already near the end of this. We always knew there was something off about my dad, but he was never diagnosed. Now i know. at the time i learned this i was going through relationship issuses, and decided that it was enough, I tried to commit suicide. I was taken by ambulance to the hospital for overdosing, and was eventually brought into mental health where i stayed for 3 weeks. I learned a bit, but i never cracked and explained why i did it, because i knew it would break my family up, as much as i hate that they are together, if they weren’t it would have been worse. After that i was doing well for a while, but then i switched schools, due to being expelled for fighting. The new school i went to, i made friends, but they werent real, they were just drug dealers and drinking buddies. I drank at least a couple of bottle of alcohol (vodka, rum, whiskey, ect) a day, and did many many drugs (including weed, cocaine, meth, pharms, speed, mdma, x, and oxy’s). I tried commiting suicide by overdosing again. I was found almost dead in a park in NF,Ont. The man that found me called an ambulance. I died twice on the way to the hospital, and once at the hospital, but they brought me back. It was very dissapointing when i woke up… With handcuffs on, to be arrested once again for public intox, underage drinking, possession, and many other stupid charges. I was told then that i was a month pregnant. I had no idea. I didn’t tell anyone. After being released, and sent home, My dad decided to take out his anger with me. The next day i got a friend to take me to the clinic, and found out that I had a miscarriage. Even though it was not planned, I still felt awful. I was very angry, and upset at both myself and my dad. i let it slip that i had a completely planned out murder/suicide towards my dad and self. I went back to the mental hospital, and this time stayed for 6 weeks. I was then diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and a rare type of OCD, in which you think many things at a time and have specific obsessive thought patterns, and your mind never shuts down, which in fact, causes depression, as your mind gets exhausted. Since i’ve gotten out of the hospital that time, I’ve been doing good, or at least doing good at pretending i am fine. But really, I’m starting to slip again. I can feel it, Or.. Can’t. Everything is starting to go numb, and im starting to stop caring about everything, just like all the other times. The past couple weeks i’ve been seriously considering suicide again. And i don’t know what to do. If i tell anyone, it’ll be family because i have no friends. but my family all knows my past and will go crazy with worry. They will completely over exaggerate it, because thats what they do. The only other person that would help, I feel bad telling because she is pregnant, and i don’t want to cause her stress and worry that is unnecessary. To top it off, I found out today that my cousin, who has a severe kidney disease, is back in the hospital, and has about a 20% chance of living. He is 26 years old. It isn’t fair. so now my family is all going to be worried about him, so if i do speak up about my feelings of suicide lately, they will either get even more worried, or think it is just something i’m saying for attention, which isn’t true. Honestly, I just don’t want to live anymore, there is no point. And if i do live, and get married and have children, what if i am just like my dad.. what if i can’t control myself?, and start hurting the ones i love, the ones i created?, what if i start making up lies and believing they are true?, what if i start acting just like him?, what if its inevitable?, what if i will be just like him?.. It is hereditary, If it is even a condition, and not just another excuse. I don’t want to be that, I won’t. I would rather kill myself to save others from going through what i have.. from growing up with an abusive parent, a parent that has no idea how much words can hurt…. What if i already am just like him.. should i stop it before its too late and i lose my mind? I don’t know what to do with myself anymore other that to just keep acting like everything is fine and dandy, and the world is a great place to be, while secretly thinking and wishing that i could die. Every time i am in or near a car, i pray it hits and kills me, every time i am in a building i pray it will collapse and crush me, every time i am outside, i pray that something will fall out of the sky and impale me, every time i am out, i pray that someone has hired a hitman to get me, every time i am alone, i pray that i would have the strength and will to die, but at the last minute, i can never pull through, because i deserve to suffer in this life, dying is too easy, i deserve worse.  I just don’t know what to do anymore. I hate this. I hate my life, I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy, nor even the devil. I’m sorry for how this world is. i’m sorry for being me. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be the night that the world will end, if not, tomorrows another day, I will remain hopeful.