I made this account in 2011. Seven years ago.

I was 17 back when I was active on this site. I’m 24 now. Wow. It’s scary now that I think about it. Seven years ago I made an account on a suicide website, and here I am again. Seven years later. I’ve checked out this website every once in a while, but I’m finally posting again.

It isn’t too much of a surprise that I’m still alive though. Sure, I had suicidal thoughts, but I was always too afraid to actually go through with it. I’ve met people on this site who were way worse off than me.

I don’t want to make it sound like I should have killed myself those years ago, though, as if these seven years weren’t worth it. Some things have improved. Heck, I was using a single-core desktop with dial-up internet back then, and here I am with a laptop and broadband internet. That’s something!

But some things have gotten worse. Sure, I was depressed and scared back then, but at least I had hope. At least I had things to look forward to. I feel like my entire outlook on life has just become bleaker and more pained. I don’t really want to be dead. I just don’t want to keep living with fear, stress, pain, and disappointment.

And other things have just stagnated. I still can’t afford most things that my friends enjoy. I can’t afford clothes, makeup, electronics, movies, games, or even to eat out. I am so bitter with my financial situation. I’ve never been able to just go out and buy a little something nice on a whim, not as a child and not as an adult. And when I say little, I mean a mere 5-6 dollars. I can’t just go to Starbucks and buy a fancy drink because I know I have to stretch and plan what little money I have. Mostly I just bring food and coffee from home, but it’s not particularly appetizing. Our place has deteriorated into a complete mess. I still wear clothes my mom bought me in middle school or early high school, and a lot of the jeans I wear belonged to my dad when he was younger. And I don’t even want to get into what happened with my dad. I still don’t have a driver’s license, and I rely on stressful, lengthy, and frustrating public transportation. I wish I could get a job, but I’m a full time student, and I struggle with my workload as is, and my mom is far too unhealthy to get one herself. I still don’t have the freedom to go out and have fun. I have old friends who just finished masters and even doctorates degrees. I have old friends who started — and are continuing to grow — a family. It’s so weird to think that me, practically an adult kid, has friends who have kids. (And, mind you, while I do mention friends, I don’t really feel close to anyone. I don’t hang out with anyone on the weekends. I spend most of my time either alone or with my mom.) When I was younger, I naively thought I’d have started a career I enjoy and have gotten married to the love of my life by the age of 23.

Yet here I am. Living with my mom. Never had a romantic, nor sexual, relationship. Still haven’t graduated. I should graduate with two bachelor’s degrees by the end of the year, but I’ve exhausted my scholarships and federal pell grants. Next semester will not be like this semester. I mentioned in an old post that I wasn’t sure where I’d go to school. I ended up going to a community college and transferring to an unreasonably expensive (public) state university thanks to scholarships. However, with no funding, I have no idea how I’ll afford my final semester. Maybe I could find a job during the summer or near the end of the semester, but every time I brought it up, my mom freaks out. I’ve never had a job in my life. She’s always been scared that we’d lose our housing assistance.

And worst of all… we did. Because she refused to bring me to an appointment because it was on the same day as my class, and she refused to let me skip it. But she insists it was their fault, that they wanted to kick us off the program, that I don’t fully understand the situation, that she’s fighting and that she’ll get it back and that I better not interfere. But it’s been months now since we lost our assistance and our landlord is running out of patience. But I’m so tired of arguing and being yelled at, of listening to noise videos on YouTube to block out her yelling. I’m tired of crying, of my mom losing it, of me running to the bathroom and locking myself inside my only sanctuary. I’m tired of her making me write emails for her. But… I know she’s not trying to be mean to me. I know she’s been through hell as well. I just don’t see this situation getting any better. She’s always been in control of everything, and she always knew what to do. It was my dad who always got in trouble and threatened to destabilize our situation. (But he was also my best friend when I was a kid. But I haven’t been able to contact him for years now because he got involved with people who manipulated him and got him in serious, serious trouble, and he hurt my mom. I don’t want to risk hurting my mom or making our situation even worse by contacting him, but I truly hope he’s still alive and healthy.) My mom was the reliable one, though. However, I fear that she’s no longer reliable, and I’m not allowed to get involved lest I get verbally abused for hours on end. I love my mom, but she’s been through a lot, and she’s really deteriorated. I know she’s also had suicidal thoughts, and, as isolated as I feel, I know she’s isolated even more so. I feel like things are only getting worse.

I’m terrified that I’ll be homeless, with my mother, and lose everything I’ve — we’ve — ever owned. I’m not a fucking monk. I have artwork, photographs, cherished things that I am absolutely not okay with losing. If we lose our home and if we lose everything, I will commit suicide. I have a method, but… seeing as it also keeps me alive, and I’m running out of it due to shitty healthcare (they counted my student loans as income, making me pay copay I can’t afford), maybe my method would merely be time. Or sugar. Ha, actual, literal death by chocolate. I don’t want to hurt my mom, though. I know she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but I don’t think she’d be able to handle homelessness either. We don’t have rich family members or friends to help out. We don’t have a car. We don’t have a safety net. The only money we have is from student loans and my last scholarship.

I hate being poor. I hate that I have no control over my situation. I hate feeling trapped and scared. I can imagine a stranger reading this and saying, “Who cares what your mom thinks? Just get a job already! Lazy poor person.” But that’s easier said than done. I’m smack-dab in the middle of the semester, already struggling with my classes. How the hell am I supposed to make good grades in these expensive classes while handling all of this? And, keep in mind, as much as I desperately want financial independence, as much as I’d love a straightforward job, I’ve never had one before. It’s not like I have some close, supportive friends who can help me out here. I have a mom who just wants me to go to school and go home. And, especially now that we’re in trouble with the landlord, she’s afraid to leave our apartment unattended. I just… I just wanted to have some control over my own life, to feel like an independent adult, to feel like I can enjoy myself, that I can hang out with friends, to feel like things are getting better. Considering that I’m nearing graduation, shouldn’t I be happy? But if I can’t afford my last semester’s tuition, and if I lose my home and everything I’ve ever owned, and if everything falls apart, how can I be happy? No, that’s not a question I want to answer.

I thought, I hoped, that my life would be normal, but it’s just as messed up as it was seven years ago. For all that has changed, so much has stayed the same.