I've struggled with depression for what seems like forever, but is really just a little over a year. I'm not seeing anyone about it for a number of reasons, but I know I probably should be.
It started in September of last year. I was just really lonely. I felt wrong for being sad and I couldn't talk to anyone about it because I couldn't see how anyone would ever possibly understand that I was sad for no reason. People noticed how down I was, and, just like I had guessed, they didn't understand. They got mad at me for not wanting to go out, not putting effort into anything.
That's when I started cutting. I'm not sure exactly what made me start and I don't know what I thought would happen. All I knew was that I was too ashamed to tell anyone about it. I never thought I was a real cutter.
Once a boy saw my cuts when I took my shirt off and he actually understood and he held me and he told me I wasn't alone. He was the first person to see them. He pulled me out of my denial and helped me actually see what I was doing. I'm eternally grateful to him for that.
Another boy saw them and started screaming at me. He threatened to cut himself the next time I cut myself. He called me selfish and disgusting and made me feel so horribly weak.
My state worsened. People started to find out, people I never wanted to find out. People that were supposed to be my friends outright abandoned me and I felt so isolated.
Then, in January, my entire life fell apart. My friend killed herself, a family friend died of a cancer that no one informed me she had, people at school started to hate me, the only friend I had left was wasting away from an eating disorder, I had horrible issues with my father, my childhood dog died, my grades were dropping, I was withdrawing from everything. I didn't want to live.
I healed a bit after go through that. I stopped cutting for a little while. I relapsed a few times and had bad days, but for the most part I was a little better from March to August. I had a happy summer, and the year started well.
Starting this November I started going downhill again. My cutting got out of control. I kept cutting veins by accident and bleeding and bleeding and being half terrified and half hopeful that I would die. About a week ago I stopped cutting because of how bad it had gotten. I'm so numb now. I can't even cry anymore. Every emotion I have buries itself inside of me and adds to this heavy, hopeless feeling. I think about killing myself constantly. I've planned my own suicide out a thousand times in my head. The thought won't leave. I have this constant, terrifying urge to destroy myself in any way possible.
I have so many friends and people that care about me, but I can't talk to anyone. I'm surrounded by people but I'm so lonely. My life is so perfect now, but I'm more miserable that I can even explain. Sometimes I think I'm happy. I really do. I smile the entire day and I come home and I look at myself in the mirror and I see someone who loves their life. But then the thoughts come back. Then the heavy feeling makes me want to close off the rest of the world. I can't escape myself. I really can't. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.



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