Usually I loved summer, I hated school. But last summer was different. I hated school and summer. I hated everything. I hated life. I hated myself. Hate. Hate and loneliness was all I endured when I wasn't feeling empty. Life wasn't fun anymore. I felt ugly, and worthless. Everyone was better than me. I didn’t breathe right, I didn’t eat right, I didn’t feel right. I couldn’t do anything right. My parents always fought with me; they never really cared about my thoughts, interests, and feelings. I shut them out.

I didn't just shut them out though. I shut out everyone. Isolated myself from the world. I felt like I was in a casket 6 feet under. No one cared about me, but you bet your bottom dollar I still had a smile on my face because I didn't want to be that depressed girl people judged in secret. I just let everyone think I was happy, but in reality I was dying inside.
            
June 8th, the night before the last day of sophomore year. That night was one of the worst. I was going to die. I chose my death date. I knew people would have missed me; I knew my parents would cried. I didn’t care. The pain flowing through my veins overcame every single one of my thoughts, and any empathy I had for people who would have missed me. I knew they would have gotten over my death, people always do. That night I carve my own skin with a razor, took too many pills to be healthy, and drank so much alcohol I couldn't feel the pain anymore. That girl that always had a smile on her face, that girl with good grades, the girl with friends was going to die. I wasn't healthy, I should have went to the hospital. I was puking and bleeding all over. I passed out on the bathroom floor.

I didn’t die. I was awoken late that night by with either my Brother or my Dad. I don't really remember.

“Seetie?” “Sweetie…?” “SWEETIE?!”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” they questioned.

“Yeah, just sick.” Just sick. Just sick… I was just sick alright. Mentally depressed and lost. The rest of the night was terrible. I was profusely shaking, and vomiting. Why didn’t I die? I ask myself that question all the time.

The next morning I awoke for school. After all that, I still went to school. It was the last day, we had exams… I couldn’t not go. I couldn't let people know what was going on. Had to stay hidden. I made it through the day, but things didn’t get better.

Some may ask why. Why would you be that ignorant to kill yourself? Why would you ever want to hurt yourself? I did it because every time I looked in the mirror I cringed. Every time I thought about who I was, what I looked like, or anything about me I hated it. I felt like I would never find love because I wasn’t pretty enough. I felt like no one would understand my thoughts, intricate things I thought no one else would comprehend. It sucked. I wanted a best friend. Everyone else had a best friend it seemed like. But the only friends I had were the scars imprinted on my body.

During the summer, my life consisted of sleeping 75% of my day because life felt pointless. Starving myself, eating less than 300 calories a day. Skipping meals, constantly saying “I’m not hungry.” or “I already ate.” I was losing weight, I could start to see my collar bones more and more. Pants getting baggy, tummy shrinking. My body had a vendetta against me. It hated me and I hated it back. I was so weak and sickly it was truly disgusting. Eventually I started eating again, and unfortunately I gained the weight back.

School was around the corner, I wasn’t excited. But something happened. Some may call it a miracle, some may say it was a prayer answered. But one day I realized something. I can’t be happy until I wanted to be happy. If I didn't have a reason to be happy, then make one. I started talking to my friend group more. Each individually, spending time with them. Actually talking about my problems. They didn’t judge me, they helped me. Some of them were even going through similar things, and we helped each other. I finally knew what having friends was like. They cared, they still genuinely care.

School started and I was excited. I got to see my favorite people every single day. I started to hate weekends they’re the most depressing. I made dreams, my friends and I are going to get a bus and paint it. We’re going to become a bunch of hippies and go all over the states.

I have things to look forward to. Sure I’m not all the way fixed, but I’m getting there. I still fight with myself every single day. Self-harm is over with, I still struggle with my self-image. Taking diet pills and counting calories like crazy. But my friends help me. I have hope, I’m getting happier. I know that eventually I’ll accomplish my one true life goal. Happiness.