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Author's note: My inspiration is my life. I went through this myself, Marie being my best friend. I hope that...  Show full author's note »
Author's note:

My inspiration is my life. I went through this myself, Marie being my best friend. I hope that people will understand how unique and complicated depression is. It has different roots in different people, and they way that it acts and people handle it are all unique. But I did include a few underlining truths to hopefully help in understanding why some people act the way they do. I sprinkled advice in there that I hope people will take.

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Prologue: December 15th, 2016

My step dad shakes me awake and I feel terrible, not physically but mentally. I wake up with one thought on my mind: my father hasn’t called since August. It’s now December. Those four months show that my father doesn’t want me now. I tell my step dad that I’m sick and need to stay home. Since it is his birthday, he’s in a good mood and agrees. I go back to bed, trying to ignore the thoughts that tell me I can’t handle this.
When I wake up again, I immediately check my phone and see that it’s about ten o’clock. My phone dings and a text from my mom pops onto the screen. It’s a list of chores to do if I feel well enough. I know I’m not legitimately sick so I drag myself out of my bed to start with the dishes. My house is quiet since I’m not up to playing any music. For some reason, I crave the silence. Allowing that thought to overtake me is a big mistake, a fatal mistake.
The silence is a perfect escape to allow my thoughts to be free. Thoughts of what my mom has done to me and my brother when my parents went through a divorce haunt my mind. I think about how she must have not wanted me then and question why she would want me now. I can’t come up with an answer, not a single answer. I can’t help but feel even more worthless. I go to my room and start crying, wanting to numb all of my pain.
Hidden in the far back corner, under my bed, I have a small wooden box. It contains the only thing I need, the only thing that can silence the overwhelming pain. I carefully pull out the sharp silver piece of metal and apply pressure. Once I start, I can’t stop raking it across my legs over and over. Red oozing from my body as I start feeling lightheaded. I love this feeling; it’s my own version of a high. Before, the only pain I felt was emotional. It was internal. Logically, I don’t understand how I can hurt so much with the only cause being my thoughts and emotions. Making the pain physical is almost satisfying. It’s a good pain. It feels right. Unfortunately, the physical pain isn’t enough to distract me from the thoughts crashing around in my head. I think about tomorrow, something I never want to go through.
I don’t want to accept the fact I was committing suicide but deep down I know what I’m doing. I decide it is best to leave a note in case my life does end. I pull out a notebook and a pen and let my thoughts fly onto the paper as if no one would read it.
To the finder of this note,
I just couldn’t anymore. I don’t fit in at school. It wouldn’t really bother me because I am quite introverted but this is different. Everyone at my school judges me. One thing that is eating away at me right now is Aurora. She is this girl in my class who is beyond perfect. She gets straight A’s, is athletic, and drop dead gorgeous. She’s got it all, covering the whole spectrum. Everybody wants to be her friend too. Not to mention she has both parents; I would kill for that, well not literally. I want both of my parents. This whole stepparents thing, it hurts. I shouldn’t be envious of her but I am. What makes it more of a problem? She’s my best friend so I can’t talk to her about it; I can’t hurt her like that. I wouldn’t want her to know I envy her. Everything is just piling up. School responsibilities, home responsibilities, family issues, loneliness, envy, everything. I just can’t do this anymore. Just know that it wasn’t anyone else’s fault. There is nothing you could have done to stop this. You’ll make it without me. I was just destined to die.

Next, I find myself in the kitchen, filling a glass of water. There’s a smooth round container in my other hand. I walk back to my room slowly, listening to the silence that I will soon be a part of. I open the container and pull out a pill. My thoughts are still bouncing around in my head as I swallow it. It’s not enough and one by one the pills slowly disappear into my stomach.  
The more pills that I take in, the more the voice in my head tells me that I’m worthless. As the container gets lighter, the voice gets louder. I’m out of pills, but it doesn’t seem like enough. One last time, I crawl into my bed. The list of pains repeats in my head, over and over.
1. I’m worthless.
2. My mother doesn’t want me.
3. My father can’t even bother to call.
4. The pain continues to build up and I can’t handle it.
5. No one understands enough to take me seriously, my pain is a joke at my school.

Finally, the voice begins to fade away and my thoughts clear. There is silence.

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