I honestly thought about skipping today. Today's topic is a bit of a touchy subject for me. I actually tried to kill myself. I was 15, going on 16. I hated myself. My parents constantly reminded me of how much of a failure I was and how disappointed they were. I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror without crying. I just wanted the pain to stop. I didn't want to worry about facing yet another day of bullshit. I felt I was most at peace when I was sleeping. I locked the door, put on my favorite music at the time, took the pills then went to sleep.
Either I didn't take enough or I was incredibly lucky, because I woke up 14-15 hours later. My parents didn't even know what I had tried to do. Then just yelled at me for being lazy and sleeping for so long. I remember being so upset because I was still alive. I feel ashamed for saying that, but that's how I felt. It wasn't until I was in college that I realized life isn't as bad when you have people to support you. I wish I had more support when I was younger, but I guess things do happen for a reason. I know not everyone believes that. But how else can I explain how I've lived though a suicide attempt and a drug overdose? I don't know. All I know is I've been through way too much hell, and I'm not giving up again.
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