It was a fucked up time, it was.
I never really knew why I felt so depressed, but i was. For at least a year, I felt like i couldn't take it. I was crying every night, pissing off me and every one around me, cutting myself, thinking about suicide, even trying it a few times. I'm surprised i'm even here, writing this. Well, kind of i guess. I think it was because of one person. Let's call her Girl for now. The first time my parents found out about me cutting up my hand, they were pissed, yeah, but they talked it out with me, and i went clean for a little while. But soon, I fell back into the groove of wanting to cut. I ignored it for awhile and talked to my friend, Girl, and i started to feel better. But the urge of cutting grew, and I did some on my arm. My parents never found out, but Girl did. She never got pissed, but talked it out with me, and it helped (just a little). But, a couple days later, I was threatening to cut my entire left arm. I called Girl, and we talked. It helped, but not enough. I got a girlfriend, but days later, she broak up with me. Again, I thought of cutting my arm, or even killing myself. I called Girl, we talked, and i felt better. Weeks later, everyone was stressing me out. I kept talking to Girl, and started feeling a lot better. And now, here I am. Alive, clean, and happy. And I've thanked her every day since then. We talk at least once a day, and it's made me happy.
Thanks Girl.
You helped me so much.
Author Notes: This is a true story about me and my depression. Thanks for reading.
United States • 21 years old