me

So yeah I’m here cause I wanna die but I guess I wanna write my story? Leave one final mark on this world or something I don’t really know…

I’ve been pretty much bullied my whole life. I’m 19 years of age and in college with a part time job. I don’t really remember what life is like without the depression. I’ve pretty much been depressed for since I was about 12..when I was old enough to really understand the bullying. It wasn’t the typical type of bullying so many people didn’t really know it was happening to me or if I told them just thought I was being a ‘drama queen’ (what one of my supposed to be friends told me). Nobody in school would talk to me. I was pretty much a loner. They talked about me. Made comments about me. They thought I didn’t hear but I did. Because I was invisible. I am invisible. I’m a shy quiet girl. It’s hard for me talk to people and make the first move with someone because I am so terrified and shy. Social situations scare me and I wish they didn’t. I wish I could be fun and outgoing like everyone else but I’m not. So I was ignored in school. Class events would be organised and I would be left out. When we needed to pick partners or someone to sit beside in class I didn’t have anybody. I had 2 friends but we had nothing in common, didn’t really like each other, they were best friends but I was only with them cause we were the ‘losers’. So even they excluded me be being partners in everything.So I became depressed. I begged to transfer schools but I was not let. My mam was a teacher in the school and ‘how would it look if a teachers daughter left the school?’. So I was stuck in hell.

When I left school I thought it would get better. But my depression has followed me. I made friends in college, I got involved, tried to fill this void but I just couldn’t. So I pretended. I pretended I was happy. I lied to everyone. I put a smile on my face. I felt nothing. Depression is a weird feeling. It can make you numb. You can feel either extreme anguish or nothing at all. Life is a burden. And I only know one way to cope with this burden. I beat myself. I punch myself, hit myself with high heels, with hammers, with sticks, with any hard object. I give myself black eyes, bruises, I cut deep into myself to leave scars, I stab myself, I shoot myself with my brothers pellet guns. I hurt myself. I self harm. And people believe the flimsy excuses. The cuts on my wrists are from a scratch off the door frame. Such an obvious excuse. But everyone believes it cause no-one wants to hear the truth.

So I have hidden my depression and self harm for about 7 years and to be honest I think that’s long enough. So that is my typical suicide story. No different from anyone elses. I have a 24 pack of paracetamol and a liter of vodka beside me and I’m gonna take them. But just to get my story out there, for people to hear. It doesn’t always get better. I t hasn’t in 7 years and I don’t have the energy to wait another 7. So yeah. My story is no different from anyone elses. But it is about to end.