My story…in a sea of other sad ones

My name is Zach, I’m 15 years old, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to kill myself, because I lost count. I know that what I’ve been through is nothing compared to what others have been through, but I feel that doesn’t make it any less valid or painful. My parents got separated Christmas of 2010. Before you explode with the injustice of that date, don’t worry, I’m not Christian, so it wasn’t THAT bad. However, it was the first time something actually went wrong for me. A year passed, and I didn’t really get over it. I started thinking about suicide. I forget all the different methods I used, all the different times. I just remember thinking the same thoughts each time. Now, I usually give it a try every two months or so. Same results. My  uncle killed himself June 6, 2012. The week after, my dad told me that he was a drug addict his entire life. My uncle would always play with me when I was little, as his wife told me later, and I used him as my personal jungle gym, by climbing all over him, but he never said a word, because he loved me to death, so to speak. To provide the next part with some context, I have never had that close relationships with guys, only girls. So, when I was in middle school, during this time, I was friends with a group of girls, because I’m a pretty awkward kid. I talked to them about this stuff, and every few months, when they got too freaked out, they would tell my guidance counselor, and I would make something up about how I just said all that stuff for attention. Eventually, I got a therapist, but I would never talk to him, because I didn’t want to know what would happen if i told him the extent of my thoughts. When he was hired, sometimes my friends would call him too. Eventually, I just felt like I was a burden to everyone, and I should just shut up. Things really got bad last year, though. I started to have a lot of problems with my dad. My dad is one of the best lawyers in the country. However, he doesn’t know when to turn it off. He always has to be right, and always has to argue, and doesn’t know the first thing about communication. The arguing went on for a year until May, when I decided I wouldn’t be talking to him anymore. He then went out of his way to make my life as miserable as he could, by taking things away from me, and turning my entire family against me. His mother doesn’t talk to me anymore because of this, and she has Alzheimer’s, so who knows what she’ll think of me in a few months. I just feel like I’m a bother, and no one should have to deal with me. I’m a sophomore now, and started the year not talking to any of my friends, so when I finally find a way to die, minimum damage is inflicted. I don’t care if anyone comments on this or even reads this. It just feels good to put down in writing what has been playing on loop in my mind for years.