first off, i have struggled with depression my whole life, ive been on medication since i was 8, and saw my first therapist when i was 7. my life hasnt been easy in the slightest, my dad left when i was 2 for about 5 years while he was out getting drunk, and my mom worked 3 jobs to support her and i. i blame myself and my family issues for how badly i turned out.
i am not a bad person, i just do bad things. i think i was about 10 when i first started cutting, 13 when i first started drinking, 14 when i first started smoking weed, and 15 when i tried other drugs. i did all of those things to cope. i didnt, and still dont know, how to handle the world. my recklessness has landed me all the hardships possible in life. when i was 15, i tried to kill myself, and was sent to the hospital. after that, and after i got some unsavory people out of my life, things were getting better. i didnt want to die anymore, i was still empty and alone, but i kept on hoping things would get better. i was wrong. i was recently arrested, then arrested again, and i could be facing jailtime for a felony. after my first arrest, i got out of control once again. i figured i had nothing left to lose, so i said fuck it and did heroin again. i snorted a bunch of lines, and after that it got awful. i knew i had taken too much. honestly, part of me was glad. i went to the bathroom, and puked. when i looked in the toilet, i saw blood. blood and black. i laid on the ground, and felt myself starting to shake. i felt cold. and in that moment, i thought i was going to die. i wasnt even sure if i wanted to or not anymore, but at this point it was just a toss up of chance. i thought about my life and the people in it, and how everything was so fragile. and how ironic it was that i could be dead after recently not wanting to die anymore. how cruel of a joke it was if i did die. but after passing out for a few hours, i woke up. i woke up with blood and puke on my chin, but i woke up. and from that point on, life has been alot more precious to me. granted i still am reckless, but never again will i fuck with heroin. basically, dying sucks, and its not worth it. none of the people on heres lives, including my own, are even a quarter way complete. and thats part of my story. and im glad i got to tell it to whoever is reading. and if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, im here. ill probably understand many things youre dealing with.
peace
-mandy.
i am not a bad person, i just do bad things. i think i was about 10 when i first started cutting, 13 when i first started drinking, 14 when i first started smoking weed, and 15 when i tried other drugs. i did all of those things to cope. i didnt, and still dont know, how to handle the world. my recklessness has landed me all the hardships possible in life. when i was 15, i tried to kill myself, and was sent to the hospital. after that, and after i got some unsavory people out of my life, things were getting better. i didnt want to die anymore, i was still empty and alone, but i kept on hoping things would get better. i was wrong. i was recently arrested, then arrested again, and i could be facing jailtime for a felony. after my first arrest, i got out of control once again. i figured i had nothing left to lose, so i said fuck it and did heroin again. i snorted a bunch of lines, and after that it got awful. i knew i had taken too much. honestly, part of me was glad. i went to the bathroom, and puked. when i looked in the toilet, i saw blood. blood and black. i laid on the ground, and felt myself starting to shake. i felt cold. and in that moment, i thought i was going to die. i wasnt even sure if i wanted to or not anymore, but at this point it was just a toss up of chance. i thought about my life and the people in it, and how everything was so fragile. and how ironic it was that i could be dead after recently not wanting to die anymore. how cruel of a joke it was if i did die. but after passing out for a few hours, i woke up. i woke up with blood and puke on my chin, but i woke up. and from that point on, life has been alot more precious to me. granted i still am reckless, but never again will i fuck with heroin. basically, dying sucks, and its not worth it. none of the people on heres lives, including my own, are even a quarter way complete. and thats part of my story. and im glad i got to tell it to whoever is reading. and if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, im here. ill probably understand many things youre dealing with.
peace
-mandy.