I once tried to kill myself. I was 13 when it started. Everything around me was falling apart. Looking back, my problems weren’t really that bad, but because of the way I am, I just couldn’t handle it all happening at once. 
This is what it all was like back then:
I was a dreamer. I was in love, but that love was starting to change forever. He stopped caring, and suddenly all the beautiful moments we would share, the life we were going to share, it all died. He would never care and I was starting to realize I would have to spend the rest of my life alone, without him, my everything. The look in his eyes when he looked at me that day, the day I finally knew there was no way back, it hurt in a way that still echoes in the back of my mind everytime I see him. I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
My father had died. And watching him die slowly every day was something horrible. I still remember the exact moment when I realized he was not going to be ok. I remember how it felt to have to get used to the idea. Praying that a miracle would happen, but knowing it wouldn’t. That’s the kind of certainty that I wouldn’t want anyone to experience. The night he died, it was about 2 am when he was rushed to the hospital. There was nothing left to do. I left at about 4 am. He couldn’t speak, but he tried to tell me something. He whispered something I couldn’t hear. I didn’t know it yet. The morning after, a relative woke me up and told me he died. I wished I hadn’t woken up. I resented my mom a little because she sent someone else to tell me. I remember feeling guilty about him dying for a reason I never told anyone, but that still haunts me today.
Soon after, my grandmother died. Then my uncle died. Everyone around me seemed to be dying. It was too much. I couldn’t handle it. I lost many of my friends. My best friend moved to the other side of the country. And the ones who stayed couldn’t understand it at all. They all had their big families still there. The only family I had left was my mom. 
My mom hated the guy I loved. It was probably because she knew the pain he was putting me through, but it still hurt that she wouldn’t understand. I don’t know what she went through when my father died, and I never dared to ask.
I was alone. Really alone. Every person I tried to reach out to ended up hating me, and I was never told I was beautiful. I felt like I was a horrible person. I felt like, no matter what I did, it was all wrong. And what scared me the most, I started to believe I wasn’t meant to be happy. I couldn’t share with anyone all the thoughts in my head, because they didn’t care, they didn’t know what it was like, they didn’t understand. Whenever I tried to talk to someone, they would say I was blowing things out of proportion, so I never said another word.
I sat, crying, tireless nights looking into the sky, wishing it would all get better. But the pain didn’t go away. I had never cried. I had always told myself I had to be strong. But I was feeling the weight of the world in my shoulders and there was nobody to help me. That’s when the thought first crossed my mind: would they realize how much I’m hurting if I died? would they finally understand? Maybe if I die, it would be like a wake up call. Who would care?
Unlike many people I see who tell the world that they want to die, I didn’t tell anyone. I let the thought grow in my mind until it became the only way out. I used to dream about one day leaving this city behind along with everyone living in it, but it was just a dream… and soon I realized no matter where I was, the pain would still be there.
One of those nights I tried holding my breath for as long as I could. When it all started to fade to black, in tears, I breathed. It would be so easy to just put an end to the pain. One day, a few weeks after, I was about to cut my veins, when I realized it wouldn’t change anything, nobody would care. I was crying so much everyday, but they were silent tears.
Then, one day, I came back from school and I was online when I found myself reading something that changed my life forever. I don’t remember how I ended up there, but it was the page of some guy I’d never known. His little sister’s name was the same as mine. On that day, he had tried to kill himself. His mother had found him and he was rushed to the hospital. The page was updated by his friends, they were all shocked, wondering why he’d done that. I remember one of them saying that if she’d known the last time she’d say goodbye to him would be the very last time, she would have never let him go. They were all hurting so much. They all felt guilty. Even though I had never known him, I was hoping he would get better and I was as shocked as his friends though, of course, in a very different way. He was in the hospital for about a week before he died. I remember the day I came back to school and found out he had died.
My world changed that day. When I saw all these people and what they were going through, I realized the damage I would do if I killed myself. I realized the pain I would cause the people around me, especially my mom. I knew she couldn’t handle losing another daughter. And my friends, maybe they didn’t understand, but that didn’t mean they didn’t care. For all the pain I was feeling and all the things I’d benn going through, I knew I didn’t want to cause anyone that kind of pain. I never wanted anyone to feel that kind of pain. So I made a promise.
I promised myself I would never even joke about killing myself. I promised myself that, whenever I could, I wouldn’t let anyone feel that kind of pain. I promised myself I would be there if anyone needed me. I promised myself I would never give up, no matter how hard it was. This is a promise I still keep. A promise I renew each and every day. A few months later, sharing this experience helped save the life of a girl I don’t even know who was thinking about killing herself. Knowing that made me feel like I could make a difference, like it was all worth it.
Depression is something I fight everyday. 6 years have passed, and life has surprised me in ways I could have never imagined. I’ve been blessed with opportunities I thought would never come. And I have one memory of a moment so perfect that made it all worth it. And it made me so thankful, because it was so much more than I could have ever asked for.
I’m still as sensitive and vulnerable as I was back then. Some things still haunt me today, they still make me feel bad. The guy I loved is no longer part of my life. I, in fact, haven’t heard of him in years and that’s still very hard to believe. Sometimes I’m terrified that anytime I could lose my mother too, and then I would really be completely alone in this world. But I learnt, the hard way, not to let that stop me from being happy. I’ve learnt that life goes on, and that it surprises you in wonderful ways, even in ways you don’t believe possible. I’ve learnt to count my blessings, and I see now all the things and possibilites I have that other people only dream of having, and I feel blessed.
Maybe I won’t ever have someone who loves me the way I loved him. Maybe I won’t ever have the big family other people have. Maybe I won’t ever have any real friends. Maybe I will always be alone, but I won’t ever give up, I will never stop trying, I will never stop believing. The story isn’t over yet. Whenever I feel like giving up I think about all the things I would have never lived if I had given up the first time and I know it’ll all make sense someday.