This is a story about self struggles and battles. Warning, there is talk about suicide and self harm as well as depression and anxiety. I never thought I would ever write something like this in my life but I feel like it's necessary. I had an okay childhood but I never knew that some day I'd wish something so horrible. I remember the first time I didn't feel okay. My heart felt empty and it felt as if no one understood me at all. This all began my second year of high school and my life was slowly crumbling. Family was a mess and things weren't okay; I always thought things were because of my mistakes as a child. I grew up in a home where I was bullied by an older sibling constantly and maybe that played a role in my depression but I don't know.

I recall that day I had made an embarrassing mistake in my biology class and life was already going terribly for me. The students who laughed at me and the fight that night at home led me to an outlet I never want to go back to. That night, I couldn't breathe; there was an aching sensation in my chest and I couldn't find a release until I grabbed a razor blade on the sink and dragged it against my skin. I felt my heartbeat increase with each cut I added to my collection, tearing myself apart.

I remember the day I held the rope in my hand and tried to find where it was okay to jump off and give my last breath. My heart was broken, I felt like a fool who had nothing left in the world. I wished nothing more but to end my life for months, but then something felt wrong. My feelings for someone stopped me from doing such terrible things. After that time, things suddenly got better and  I got help from a friend. Things were going great for me and I was grateful that I didn't go through with my suicide attempt.

Suddenly, things changed and I got worse. I went back to cutting and that didn't help release my pain so I started drinking a little per night, just to mask the pain. I fell into depression and anxiety came soon after. My world kept crumbling over and over again and nothing seemed to help anymore. My suicidal thoughts clouded my mind on the daily; I felt as if suicide was the only answer.

Now, I'm living life as best as I can while suffering through this. Sure, I get hit by waves of depression sometimes but now I have someone to tell these things to. Although my own family won't talk about these things with me, I have a family who cares about me and I finally feel at home. Thank you for all the love and support that you have given me, it means a lot. You're my best friend, Love Bunny. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Bunny for caring about me enough to offer me advice. The Bunny family truly feels like a home to me.

The point of this essay is to show you that things do get better. Keep your head up.