So I turned 13 in Februrary and it had been a month since my closest friend had moved to Califonia and I had no idea what she was doing since I hadn't recived her phone number yet. In the beginning of March, though, she emailed me for the first time in weeks saying that she had been cutting herself.
I was distraught and began questioning a lot of things, darker things. Every time I would hear from her it would be with news of an attempted suicide a new friend made or admittance that she had been cutting again. Things over there were way worse than over where I live, so it was hard for me to help my best friend when I really didn't have any way to connect.
I told one of my friends, Beatrice (her real name is confidential) and after a while she started slipping down the same hole I fell into.
Being a good student, my teachers noticed right away when I wasn't "myself". I saw my guidence conselor and he didn't tell my parents anything about what was going on with me, even though he was VERY concerned.
After a while, my Lit. teacher noticed that my writing was much darker and had seen me use the word "suicide" in a couple of personal writings (which I shared with no one, he violated that) and immediately I was sent to guidence.
After a while things got very big and in rebellion, from everyone bugging me so much about how "bad" I felt (I had felt fine, recovering even), I technically attempted to die.
I sent out scary emails to my friends and they paniced when they recieved them -- though none told an adult. I was at school the next day, every day, laughing because the day previous to my "attempt" my guidence councelor asked me if I would be around the next day. I almost wasn't.
So when I finally told my mom (she found me fryingin my room) she got me my phycologist, Cherry (once again her real name is confidential).
The next Monday I was almost admitted to a adolecent residential programme in the hospital (the loony bin for teens) but convinced my mom that I was not in that much trouble.
Sorry, I better speed this story up.
My two friends Beatrice and Heather (both not their real names), at the end of school, when I was just getting better and starting to eat again, started to cut.
So by then I had a best friend in California cutting, and two at home cutting. Beatrice and Heather didn't trust any adults and weren't willing to be open towards anyone besides ME.
I thought I saved their lives by "telling" on them, seeing as how Beatrice wrote a suicide note and Heather took six headache pills (minor, but could become fatal).
Later I learned that they were lying to me, that they weren't really suicidal but wanted to seem that way because they wanted to be able to realate to me
By this time it was mid June and I was better but not feeling like I should be better, you know? When I got back from a family vacation in the end of June I plumbited downwards, yet again.
I thought every night that it was my last, and came up with multiple plans, notes and almost actions.
Until I ODed on Flouride, the kind you're supposed to NOT SWALLOW. So yeah. I didn't tell my parents and they still don't know anything past what happened during school.
Now it's August and today I made plans to "go waway for a long, long time" because I've wanted to die too many times and have waited to long.
The problem is though, I don't want to die anymore. So like everyone else I have these fantasies about how I would nearly kill myself but at the last moment I would survive. I'm scared of using knifes, because I feel self-destructive around them. Same thing with meds.
I need a reason to be here, I need a point. Right now I see no future for me, for I do not want to follow the path everyone else follows.
My main problem is that I want to help others before I help myself, and the only reason I am alive is because I couldn't stand the pain it would bear on my friends who NEED me.
Please, some comfort and feed back. (sorry for bad spelling)
