Hello.

I almost ended my life tonight.

I got into a huge argument with not only my parents, but my grandparents, who I believed understood me more than my parents did; I was also publicly humiliated in front of my friends, in a situation where my parents and grandparents ran out in front of my house, in front of the car my friends were in, all just to yell at me.

I had to tell my friends to leave immediately. My parents talked to me for two hours and tried to tell me that family is all I have. That they’re the only ones who will ever truly care about me. That my friends didn’t care whether I was happy or not.

The difference they don’t understand is that I’m more comfortable around my friends than I could ever be with them. I will never have that relationship of being best friends with your parents. I will never be able to say I had an amazing relationship with my family, except for my brothers. Not only did depression ruin so many things for me, in a way that I will never be completely normal or healthy, but so did my parents. The phrase, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions” will never be more relevant to me than in this situation.

I called my friend. I was going to call the suicide hotline at first, but I didn’t want them to call the police or ambulance on me. I talked to my friend for a little while, but as I spoke, I cried but my voice was dead. There was nothing in it anymore.

I truly don’t believe that I can do this. I may have not taken my life tonight, which I know many will try to commend and say that living another day is an accomplishment in itself, but eventually, I know it will happen. I went and took a walk around a lake today on impulse and the only feeling I had while I was there was an urge to drown myself. That itself is a sign.

I can’t live like this. I’m not truly living if I spend every day thinking about death. I know I will never be happy. I will never be normal. Nothing good can come out of this. I may still be young, as I’m 20, but I know this isn’t the life I should be living, nor the life that will have any sort of good outcome. I love my family, but they say I hate them. I love them so, so much. But they will never understand me. They will never understand my depression or anxiety. They don’t even believe it exists.

I’m going to reach my breaking point, and I know it will happen very, very soon.