June 29th, I attempted to take my life and was certain I was going to succeed. I was in the desert for hours passed out and did die, but only for 3 minutes and ended up in a coma. When I woke up, I was so fucking angry and I’m still angry. I SHOULD have died. There’s absolutely no logical reason for me to be alive. I was blue when they found me, all my organs were shutting down yet somehow I’m alive. I was a 3 on the coma scale, with little hope of waking up, yet I did. I’ve been telling my family and “friends” that dying “changed my perspective on life and made me realize how precious it is” but it’s a lie obviously. My failed attempt made me hate my existence even more and It breaks my heart when I think about how I didn’t die. I’ve been fighting to live for my sisters sake for the past 5 months, and I can’t do it anymore. I’m done. When, I don’t know but I know I won’t make it through the winter.