I’ve suffered from depression since I can remember.
I attempted suicide when I was thirteen. According to my mother, it was a phase.
I’ve been flirting with anorexia for years. That, she said, was a phase too.
But my mother was often naive about a lot of things.
Like her husband for example. He’s cheated, he’s lied, he hit her and sexually abused her.
My mom was ill. Most of what I remember of her was her being admitted in to hospitals. She was blind. I thought most of her ailments were due to the fact that she had diabetes since she was 11 years old. Boy was I wrong.
It didn’t only affect my mother, though. He’d hit me whenever he was upset. Tell me I was a worthless whore. Touched me inappropriately. Mentally, he destroyed me.
Four years ago he drugged me. And I woke up half naked to him under my covers and half naked too. Confused and scared, I went to a doctor, and I was told that what he gave me could have been a date rape drug. And since I wasn’t a virgin anymore, nothing could be proven. Until this day I have no clue what he did to me. I guess I’ll never know.
Two weeks later, my mother died. She was HIV positive.
I left home not too long after that.

I have started cutting to try and deal with the pain, I started cutting really deep on bad days trying to obliterate myself. I failed.

I was homeless and lived on the street for almost 2 years.

I started abusing drugs not too long after that in an attempt to OD and eventually die. I failed.

I now see each day go by in a tearful blur and a OTC medicated haze.

I can’t seem to find a job or find happiness. I feel I am a burden to everyone around me.

I wish I could say I’ve overcome my past filled with the darkest of shadows.
But unfortunately, that’s not the way life works.
Every single day is a battle of the good and evil inside me.
More bad than good.
But I’m still alive, and telling the tale.
I am just not certain that I want to live any more.