It’s been a rough day. Worked for 6 hours straight at a restaurant. Came home and asked my friends to log online with me, hoping maybe they’d finally not be busy. Surprise surprise, they can’t log on. Who would’ve guessed. I’m just tired of it all. I tried to kill myself 4 months ago because I felt so alone, hopeless, and just wanted it all to be over. Woke up in the ICU with my parents next to me. I was in a coma for 8 days. Got “better” and went home after another 3 weeks or so.

I know that people care. I know they don’t want me to end my life, but it only seems like people care after I’ve done something or when I’m in a crisis. My friends don’t seem to care about checking in on me or just even regularly hanging out. So do they care because they actually care? Or do they care because society says you’re supposed to “care”?

I know my parents care. I know they love me. But I can’t go to them every time I feel like I want to die. It’s not fair to them. My mom is already in therapy after my attempt. And I’m sure my friends would care if I told them I was in a crisis. But I have a crisis every other day. I can’t call them every time I want to hurt myself because that’s like 3-4 times a week. 

My one friend is in college 4 hours away now, he’s busy and got friends there now. My other friend is still around here but he’s got a girlfriend that he spends all his time with. It feels like shit because we’ve been friends for 6 years and he’s suddenly not giving me the time of day for some chick he met a few months ago. 

I know that I’m going to try and kill myself again. It’s inevitable. I’m trying to hold off as long as I can for my parents and family that loves me. I’m trying to push those thoughts away for however long I can. But it’s a losing battle. One day, I’m going to give in, and do it. One day, I’m going to cave and submit to the constant thoughts that remind me that ending my life is the only logical thing to do with how miserable I am. I’ve been depressed for 7 years now. It has it ups and downs but ultimately I’m only getting worse. I’m fighting a losing battle.

I’m not asking anyone to feel sorry for me, or even care. Just to listen. I have been fortunate enough to be born into a middle class family with loving parents who never have to worry about money. I know people have it worse than me. But sometimes, it’s bad in a different way. Because then you feel like you don’t have the right to be depressed or feel the way you feel. And sometimes people tell you that. 

I’m holding on as long as I can. But I know I can’t forever. And I know that next time I try, I’m going to make sure I don’t fail. Because I never want to wake up to the pain and suffering I caused ever again.