This feels weird, I don’t usually talk about this. I don’t want to die anymore, at least not all the time like i did before, but i don’t want to live either. I was in a really dark place about 6 years ago when I was close to ending my life, the only thing that kept me from actually doing it was fear of spending eternity in hell. I got help, it got better for a while I thought that part of my life was over,  just a phase, but it wasn’t I still have some of those feelings left over, and it’s hard.

My parents are caring and understanding,  they care so much, but sometimes that just makes it worse, like when I’ve been in the closet for too long they have to check up on me, or when I’m upset they go easy on me and it makes me feel weak. They don’t trust me with my own life. But at the same time I’m grateful because no matter how much I hate my life and myself, most of the time I want don’t want to die I just want to be… I don’t know if that makes any sense, just do nothing and think nothing and live in my mind I guess.

I feel like the first time I though about killing myself I opened a door, and I can’t close it now, like Pandora’s box, it’s there forever. Now it’s an option every time life goes wrong and I’m in a dark place. And that’s what I’m afraid of. Myself. I’m afraid that I’m not strong enough. I’m afraid that no matter how hard I fight against it in the end depression is going to win.