Small disclaimer: English is not my native language so I'm sorry if the flow of the sentences is a bit awkward. 

So on new years eve I was hanging out with a couple of friends at a sleepover, the guy has a huge tall house. There were 9 of us in total.

As you can probably imagine, us being dumb teenagers, we had gotten our hands on a crate of beer and a couple bottles of vodka, I had promised beforehand that I wouldn't drink too much.

So in the beginning everything was all good, we kinda hung out a bit, I was the third person to arrive so we could just get comfortable and wait for the rest, I decided to pump up my air-matress so I didn't have to do it later.
Eventually everyone arrived and it was all good, we played a couple of card games and had a decent amount to drink, so we everyone was definitely vibing.

We stuck together for a little bit longer but eventually, inevitably, the big group split up into smaller groups of friends, normally this honestly isn't a big problem to me because most of the time I can still find someone to hang out with and even if I couldn't, I always manage to find something to do for myself.

But this time was different, my already weak reasoning skills and poorly regulated emotions were definitely being affected by what I had drunk already.
As usual I was the unlucky one to be left out without anyone to hang out with, so for some reason I decided to grab a fresh bottle of vodka and just sip out of that, since everyone was having fun with everyone else, I might as well just enjoy myself like this,

This is probably where things really started going south.

Since there was no-one around me to keep an eye on me, I definitely had too much to drink. I got very depressed very quickly, and had somehow convinced myself that every single person that had ever laid eyes on me absolutely hated me from the bottom of their hearts. And so, somehow, I decided to throw myself off the roof, I was at ground level at this time so I had to walk a lot of stairs to get there, his roof was all the way at the fourth floor.

The following moments were extremely hazy, I had drunk almost all of the bottle at this point and was pretty much completely unaware of my surroundings.

Somehow I managed to walk the stairs to the third floor, but right before the final  stairs to the roof, I collapsed and couldn't get back up anymore. I was just *done*, I started crying and became even more suicidal but couldn't get up and walk the last stairs, I lied there for a while, crying, feeling like dirt and wanting to disappear.
 I think I might have passed out around this time, I woke up in the same spot with a good friend and my fp sitting to the left and right of me asking way too complicated questions for me to answer. Then I remember waking up laying on the couch, with a bunch of people sitting on the rug talking quietly. I don't know if I walked over there with help of others or if they carried my senseless body there but I there I was. Suicidal, weak and drunk.
After some time I gathered enough strength to say something, someone immediately ran off to grab a bag for me to puke in. I did that and after I felt good enough to be able talk, I told them everything, literally everything. I told them about my youth, that I was lonely and bullied for as long as I can remember, I told them about my abusive dad and homophobic parents, I told them I am bisexual, I told them about all my personal struggles involving BPD and DID, I told them about my self-harm, but I didn't tell them I had had just tried to kill myself, I didn't tell them I felt lonely because they all ignored me. I don't know why I didn't, I had told them everything but couldn't  tell them about what happened just moments ago. I can't remember their reaction, if even they reacted at all, someone pushed me down and put a blanket over me saying that it's enough for now and I should probably get some sleep, so I did that. I fell asleep surprisingly easily. The next day no-one really talked about what happened, but there was definitely some slight tension. My fp did approach me asking if I felt better now and I just answered I don't know. She hasn't messaged me yet or anything and I don't know if I should make a big deal out of it. We cleaned everything up, packed our stuff, said goodbye, and went home.

I still haven't told anyone what exactly happened to me that night , I feel like I have to get it out of me so that's why I'm writing this. I guess my new years resolution would be to never drink alcohol again. I don't know exactly what to do now, I don't even know if I want or even should do something now. I am definitely going to tell this to my psychiatrist, so hopefully he'll know what to do, I'm not actively suicidal right now, but I'm feeling worse than I have in a long time, so yay for me.

Thank you for reading, there is no final point in my story, if you want to give advice or share a similar experience then that's fine, please be safe when being under the influence of something and always make sure there is someone there to keep an eye on you

Thank you

Edit: grammar and spelling